On the Edge
by Calico West
Summary: The family is taken by force, the will to survive the unknown already aflame in each heart. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

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A note to my readers: This story was written as a work in progress, but its entire process came with a twist. This story had several minds involved as I welcomed the readers to offer input on what they would like to see and have happen as each chapter progressed, in which several did in a big way. Credit to those readers and short notes will be found at the end of each chapter, starting in chapter two. This story is now complete, and if you're only now beginning to read, hang on, you're in for a wild ride. CW

**On The Edge**

Chapter One

Andy pulled his coat on, hearing in his head the need to do so before Jonesy's words actually found his ears. He stepped out of the bedroom, buttoning his coat just as Jonesy finished reminding him to grab a jacket before going outside, creating a smile to form on each mouth. Taking his hat from the peg beside the door, Andy set it in place and then bounded through the front door in his normal youthful energy, darting around the mud puddles in the yard that appeared to have multiplied in number overnight. There were still some spots of snow in places, mostly where the drifts had piled deep, but since the temperatures had begun to rise, the thaw had thoroughly set in, leaving the remnants of winter in liquid formations that couldn't absorb quickly enough into the ground. The rain that had fallen from the sky innumerous times since the first southerly wind had hit could also be to blame, but at least at the moment, there wasn't anything pitter-pattering out of the sky.

Andy pushed the barn door wide, pieces of hay and dirt that had the ability to dry in the enclosure of the barn immediately stuck to his muddy boots. He gave an extra stomp to each foot, but the action only resulted in the muck sticking harder to its bottoms, and he promptly gave up. Jonesy would just have to mop the floor again. What would that make it already, three times since sunrise? Andy shrugged and then hurried about his tasks. Although not late in the day, it was dark inside, the grayness of the clouds blocking enough light that the windows were of little help to Andy's visibility, making his steps take him directly to the lamp hanging on the wall.

With a flick of a match the lamp was lit and Andy carried it along his side as he moved to the first empty stall. The stage horses were in the corral, with the exception of Slim and Jess' companions, all of the saddle broke mounts were in the pasture, which left a decent amount of scooping and cleaning to do. Andy set the lamp down and grabbed a shovel, making quick work of removing every trace of manure in the straw. With the two most important stalls cleaned first, the ones that Slim and Jess' horses would occupy once they returned home, Andy put a hand to the top button of his jacket, wanting to remove it from his frame as the exertion began to create a trickle of sweat down his back. He didn't make it any further than the one button, for Jonesy's words still tickled in his ear, and he left it on. But it was in this moment that he was paused, that Andy's eyes caught the movement of a shadow in the lamplight on the ground.

Andy froze. There were no horses in the barn. Jonesy was in the house, and even if the older man had exited, Andy would have heard him sloshing in the muddy path from the house. Whatever had moved had already been in the barn before Andy had taken his first step in. He swallowed, his fear the driving force of his next action, Andy reached out and firmly took the shovel back in his hand. Having a weapon, although not a very forceful one, but nevertheless, the shovel gave him a sense of security and Andy slowly turned, his breath caught in his throat as what had been at his back was now at his front. There was nothing there.

His imagination had fooled him before, but Andy wasn't convinced enough to release his tight hold on the shovel's handle. Darting his eyes back and forth, Andy searched for anything out of place, but he could find nothing. He listened, but even Andy knew he didn't possess the skills of trained hearing as Slim and Jess could use, and the only sound he could detect were the breaths going in and out of his slightly opened mouth and the rather fast hammering of his heartbeat. His next breath was drawn deeper in and exhaled in a form of a sigh of relief and then Andy took a step forward, the next stall now completely in his view.

Andy instantly took a step backward, his eyes widening as fear completely seized him, the shovel dropping with a thud onto the ground. He wanted to scream, wanted to run, but there wasn't a sound that could be formed in his mouth and his boots, still caked with mud, felt like they had been cemented to the barn's floor. His knees began to quiver, and Andy had to quickly remind himself of the stamina that had grown into his backbone since Jess had become part of his life and what had been taught to him, otherwise, Andy's legs might have collapsed underneath him. He looked up, seemingly way up, and suddenly there wasn't only one. Now his voice could find him, and by the look on his face it must have been obvious a shout was imminent, for a hand reached out and clamped firmly across his mouth.

The strength was too much for Andy to struggle, and he closed his eyes, a prayer beginning in repeat, a handkerchief replacing the hand and then he felt his body lifted from the ground and slung over a shoulder. He opened his eyes when the damp air, now being dotted with raindrops, was back on his face, but all he could see was the muddy ground of the corral and the lower end of whoever was carrying him. Andy squirmed, receiving a pinch to his side for doing so, and then he stilled himself as his body was exchanged from one to the other. This one's grasp he didn't dare try to fight, but Andy wished he could have pummeled every solid muscle in the chest, arms and back to prevent from being tossed in the back of a wagon. His backside hit the buckboard with a thump and as a groan couldn't completely be muffled behind the gag in his mouth, Andy started to recoil when a hand came back near his face, but it wasn't to slap, only to tie another handkerchief around his eyes. It took only a few short seconds longer until his hands and feet were secured with something much more biting than rope.

Andy tried not to cry, but if there were any tears that could escape his eyelids, they went right into the bandana. There was no way he could know what would happen next. His eyes, voice, and limbs were now immobilized, but his mind couldn't be shut off and inside he continually called for help. It was out there. Slim and Jess were due home any minute, and Jonesy was still in the house. But perhaps, the latter was what surged the dose of fear deeper into his stomach. Jonesy was still in the house. And no one had stepped up into the driver's seat of the wagon.

Jonesy walked to the kitchen door and peered through the curtained window, his sense of alarm ticking louder by the minute. Andy should have finished cleaning stalls long before now. No one took any pleasure in removing what came from a horse's behind from an already dusty, hay-strewn floor, and especially for Andy, who normally would fly through the job in a new record speed each time the task was assigned to him. Settling a worried frown on both his brow and his mouth, Jonesy opened the kitchen door and leaned his head out, ready to call out to the boy when he heard the front door open and close again.

"Wouldn't you know," Jonesy muttered to himself as he stepped back into the kitchen, softly closing the door behind him. "Here I am fretting and he's running in the front door." This, now louder, Jonesy's feet aiming around the side of the fireplace, "What'd you do, get stuck in the mud?"

But there was no one there. Jonesy reached up and scratched the side of his chin, angling his head toward the bedroom. That door was still shut and he'd only heard one open and close. The frown settling in deeper, Jonesy looked around the room, almost expecting Andy to jump out of a hiding place and scare him clean out of his boots, but Jonesy knew better than to fully put his belief in fun and games. Something was wrong. Jonesy took one step toward the rifle, wanting the weapon securely in his hands, but that one step was all the more that he would take. The front door was thrust open, and someone large filled its frame.

"See here," it was all that was allowed out of Jonesy's mouth before heavy footsteps came behind him and seized his arms tight. Jonesy's back wanted to bend over with the pain that suddenly came upon him, but he was firmly held upright, the one in front of him designing a handkerchief in his hands meant for Jonesy's mouth. He grimaced when it went in, the foul taste matching its dirty appearance, and then he was half-carried, half-shoved to the door.

Jonesy knew he couldn't fight. Not only would his body not allow it, but something that felt ominously similar to a barrel of a gun poked into his ribcage. His feet slid in the mud and he would have smiled if his mouth could have formed the gesture around the sodden wad in his mouth at the tracks that were being made, knowing that Slim and Jess would readily see the marks when they arrived home. Which should be soon. Jonesy inhaled sharply through his nose at the thought, maybe too soon. That definitely was a gun at his side, and likely the one holding it knew how to fire it.

Around the barn a wagon was in sight, and Jonesy didn't miss the tied up boy in the back. Andy. This was where Jonesy started to resist, the fight boiling up in his veins willing to prove that he was more than just an old man, but the already tight hold pinched even tighter. He was lifted like he was no more than Andy's weight and fortunately for his back's sake, was placed in the wagon bed more mercifully than Andy had been tossed, but the bite around his ankles and wrists were of the same magnitude. The last thing to go on him was the bandana around his eyes, the light going out the same moment that he was laid backward.

Jonesy's fingers felt around the bottom of the wagon boards until he felt fabric, and there, inching slightly upward, he found Andy's fingers, and there they connected. It wasn't much, but for one frightened boy and one confused, yet angry man, it was enough. They were together, and each thought wasn't far from Slim and Jess, hope being shrouded out with fear. No one had stepped up into the driver's seat of the wagon.

Drizzle began to dampen their hats and coats as their two horses trotted side by side toward the ranch house. Slim tugged his hat a little lower over his eyes keeping the mist from his face, but Jess reached a finger up and tipped his a little higher to be able to see even clearer, following a sense of alarm that he wouldn't understand until the last corner was turned. The horses were pulled to a stop in front of the house at the hitching post, the front door receiving both men's attention as it was swung wide open. A summer day, maybe, but not when the weather was still at that indecisive line between winter and spring.

"Jess," Slim gave a look at his partner, knowing by the narrowing of his eyes that Jess knew it too. "Something's wrong."

"Yeah," Jess nodded, his feet dropping to the ground in the same instant that his gun was drawn. "I don't like the feel."

"You take the house," Slim gave a nod toward the open door, "I'll take the barn."

They should have never split.

Jess walked cautiously through the front door, every one of his senses on high alert. He could hear a feather drop if one was floating to the ground, but it wasn't a feather in the room. It was the strange scent that caught him first, but exactly where, he couldn't decipher fast enough. Jess turned sharply around to the space behind the open door, but it was empty and before he could turn back, he felt a draft of air run across his neck. Behind him. All he had to do was be ready to fire, for the gun was loaded, cocked and at a perfect level. He spun, the pressure on the trigger being pulled before his eyes found a target, but all he did was obliterate a lamp. Jess shook his head, knowing that he hadn't been mistaken, but there was nothing there. He took a step forward, every muscle in his body tight, the kitchen his aim, but then he felt that eerie draft of air again. Behind him. It was behind him. But he wasn't allowed to take another swiftly triggered turn, for something hard crashed into his head and Jess' body dropped to the ground, his only knowledge was that of darkness.

With gun in hand, Slim stepped through the barn door, leaving it open far enough to give aid to his eyes, for the interior was darkened by the misty cloud deck. He spotted the lamp on the floor first, and then a few feet in front of it a discarded shovel and his pulse began to quicken. It was at that moment that a gunshot exploded from the house, followed a second later by the barn door slamming shut. Slim's gun was ready to be fired, but there was no one on his side of the door. Whoever pushed it shut had come from outside. Slim ran to the window, his eyes wanting to focus on the house to know if Jess had been the one to pull the trigger or have a trigger pulled at him, but it was more vital to search around the barn for the intruder. He knew he wasn't alone, but whoever, whatever, wherever, wasn't making any noise.

Slim inched along the barn wall toward the door that led to the corral, the sound of the horses moving about in the fenced enclosure muting out any other footstep, but he continued forward, even if there was someone just on its other side. Taking a deep breath before exiting, Slim stepped into the light rain, turning to his right, then his left, but there was no one there. He shook his head, his skin prickled with alarm, and then slid his boot back inside the barn. He couldn't make a play stuck in the corral. Slim hurried across the barn, the door near the bunkhouse his next mode of exit, but as he stepped over the discarded shovel, the main door began to creak open. Slim dropped into a stall, his gun readied to be fired at any unfamiliar silhouette, but nothing filled the open space.

Slowly standing, Slim kept his gun pointed at the open doorway, air hardly being pulled in and out of his lungs, he took two cautious steps toward the dim light and then he angled his head, trying to see around the opening. There was nothing there. Two more steps were all that he planned to take, but it was only two more steps that he would actually make. What saved his head was the sound of the air being cut behind him as a pistol butt crashed down, landing on the top of his shoulders instead. The blow was enough to make Slim stagger, as a hand reached around and gripped his wrist so tight he thought he heard a bone snap, but it was only his gun dropping to the ground.

With a jerk his arm was brought around to his back and then he was roughly pushed to the ground, his knees hitting the barn floor with a smack. Slim felt a groan start to rise in his throat but it was silenced by something sharp at his hairline and for a brief moment, Slim feared he was about to be scalped, but the pressure against his skin never increased. He barely released a breath through his mouth, not knowing if another sound would bring the flow of blood, and before he could draw another unsteady breath back in, something soft was shoved between his teeth. This brought an involuntary noise, a gag from his throat, as the taste of the bandana was enough to make his stomach lurch. Slim braced himself, knowing that punishment would come, but it came from behind, the base of his skull taking the brunt of a blow.

Slim went limp, closing his eyes as his face hit the floor. He wasn't out deep, just somewhere on the line of groggy awareness, his concern for the rest of his family preventing him from going all the way under. What had happened to him could have easily happened to Andy and Jonesy. And what about Jess? If he had been the one firing the gun in the house, then he would have burst through the barn door by now, the gravel in his throat matching the lead that would have flown from his gun. Slim didn't like the uneasy feeling in his middle, from the bitter bandana all the way to the bitter fear.

Heavy footsteps outside brought Slim's eyes to a slit, his own body being drug toward the barn door gave him a full visual of Jess' limp frame being hauled across the muddy ground. The one that held onto Slim's arms paused in the doorway, allowing the other to pass by, Jess being so close that Slim could see the life still working through his lungs. He was alive. Not daring to breathe a sigh of relief, Slim let his eyes close once more, keeping his lashes tight, only now using his ears to detect the villain's next step. While being pulled through the muck outside, Slim heard a thud and a clanking of a spur against wood and once more, his body was paused, waiting his turn. Slim was suddenly hauled upright, the need to see too great to keep his lashes lowered, and through a narrow opening, he watched as his body was flung into the back of a wagon, already full of three bodies. Andy. Jonesy. Jess.

Slim couldn't brace for impact and his left side took the brunt, his cheek hitting hard enough that he couldn't stop the wince, but since another blow wasn't hurled in his direction, no one must have noticed. His sight was soon completely cut off, for a handkerchief was tied around his eyes, his wrists and ankles quickly after feeling the pinch of leather, and then Jess received the same. The wagon seat groaned under its sudden pressure and then with a throaty call to a team of horses, they were going forward, to where, only the enemy would know.

It was a tight fit in the wagon bed, all four bodies lying in various positions, now being bounced around as the wheels turned over the road, but it was this closeness that told each one that the other was still alive. Slim's back felt the warmth of Jonesy's front, who still had his fingers touching Andy's, and the boy's legs bent around Jess' arms. They were together, facing the unknown, but they were together.

Pain was settling in, the jostling of the wagon adding to every ache, the last to feel its menacing throb being Jess, as a particularly jarring bump aroused him. He couldn't see, couldn't speak, and couldn't move, but Jess could gauge the threat level, its soaring height enough to bring a heavy dose of trepidation to flood his veins. The four of them being forced from their home would have been enough to cause Jess' rising concern, but there was more. His hands were against the wagon bed and he was becoming more aware of something slick. They each wore a layer of mud, the drizzle had turned into a steady rain, but this was something different.

Mud was dense and sticky. Rain was thin and cold. This was thick and warm. One of them was bleeding.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The stagecoach pulled into the relay station, the driver's full attention on its apparent vacancy, his concern growing with each second that went by without someone there to greet him. Mose hollered each man's name more than once, the boy's only a single time, his hands placed on his hips as he slowly turned his head as the only reply that came to him was a dim echo. He ran a sleeve over his face, dotted with raindrops that continued to fall from the sky, adding to the accumulating mud puddles across the yard, ones that were quickly covering up any telling marks in the soft ground.

Mose clomped his boots across the porch and leaned inside the door that had been left ajar, another shout readied on his tongue, but as his mouth came open, his voice was silenced there in his throat. Jess' hat lay upside down on the floor, the sight too unusual to dismiss, but there was something else in the room out of the ordinary, and this made Mose's heart rate suddenly increase. He walked inside and inching closer to the table, his foot found remnants of a lamp, the glass crunching underneath into the floorboards. It hadn't been dropped, it hadn't been smashed, at least not by anything sizable, but it had met its demise by a bullet. But whose?

Mose ran back through the door, his feet sloshing through the mud in a straight aim for the barn, afraid what he might find behind its closed door. Taking a deep breath, Mose pulled the door open, his eyes needing to blink a few times to adjust to the dimmer light, already creating a wince on his face at what might be hiding in the darkness. But there was nothing there. Mose walked through the barn twice, its emptiness matching the hollow, fearful emotion running through his middle. Something was wrong, but how severe, Mose couldn't yet begin to understand. Yet he was one step closer.

Mose looked down, the shaft of pale light from the open door slightly illuminating across the floor showing it smattered with dirt and hay, but there was something else dotting the ground. He bent down, but he didn't need to touch it to fully know what it was, but he let a finger press into it anyway. Blood. Someone was bleeding. And hopefully that someone wouldn't have better been defined in multiples.

Everything was behind him in a blur, as Mose found speed that his aging body hadn't seen in years as he quickly exchanged the team of horses. Of all the days to be in the driver's seat without a shotgun man, but Mose had the horses swapped in the same amount of time if one of the younger employees of the Great Central Overland Mail had been with him anyway. He was just about to get back in the seat on top of the empty coach when a horse nickered from the trail behind the barn and Mose filled his hand before stepping his feet back onto the ground.

Walking slowly, fully aware that he didn't carry anything near a professional skill with a sidearm, Mose still prepared himself to fire the weapon in case there was a rider approaching that he didn't want to meet. He flattened against the wall of the barn and took a deep breath as the sound of not one, but two horses met his ears. And they were coming his way. Mose knew something terrible had happened at the ranch, Slim, Jess, Jonesy and even Andy could all be dead, and if not to that extreme, could still be in grave danger, and the ones responsible for the harm could be right around the corner. He couldn't balk, couldn't run, but he had to face them head on.

"Hold it right there!" Mose shouted, stepping out into the open, but the only thing reacting to his command were the two mounts, without anyone seated in their saddles and he soon replaced his gun inside of his holster. They weren't any outlaw's horses, as Mose recognized the pair immediately that belonged to Slim and Jess, and he hurried his steps to the anxious horses, being first met by Jess' faithful bay.

"I think you're tryin' ta tell me somethin'," Mose rubbed his hand up Traveler's nose. "And I think I kinda know too. Somethin' real bad's happened and you prolly saw it all. Where's Jess, huh, do you know?"

Mose knew the horse would never answer, but it did appear as if the animal had understood to some extent, for Traveler's head turned toward the north. Mose's eyes followed, and there, slanting around the hillside, were a set of wagon tracks, the indent into the soft ground enough to be filled by the consistently falling rain. They would eventually dissolve into one muddy mass, but at least for now, Mose knew a source and a direction. The weight of worry was placed too heavily on his shoulders, otherwise he would have smiled at his discovery, but his hand gave a final pat to Traveler's neck in gratitude.

"I'd let you lead the way, Fella, but I gotta git ta town," Mose said, putting his left hand on one set of reins and his right on the other, leading the reluctant pair into the barn. "I don't want you ta start wanderin' all over and git inta trouble. This is a job for the sheriff, not a coupla horses and a solitary old man like me. I'll get you settled in and then head for Laramie."

The Laramie road never knew a stagecoach could be driven that fast. Mose left the stagecoach at the depot with less than a word of greeting to the superintendent, his steps taking him directly to Sheriff Mort Cory's office, the fear just as prevalent in his veins as it was when he'd discovered the barren stage stop. Maybe now even more, because the story that he'd stumbled into could very well have a horribly bad ending.

"There's somethin' wrong out at the Sherman ranch," Mose announced before the sheriff's office door swung shut behind him. "Nobody's there, a lamp was all shot up in the house, Slim and Jess' horses were wanderin' loose, all saddled up and everythin', and ta top it all off, I found blood in the barn."

"How much blood?" Mort asked, his hand already reaching for his hat, knowing that he'd be hurrying out as soon as the information was relayed to his ears. "Gunshot amount? Less?"

"Less," Mose narrowed his hands to the approximate size that he'd found. "There ain't much relief in that though, is there? I gotta bad feel about all of it."

"What else did you find out there?" Mort asked, prodding for more to gauge his next step. Go out there alone, or go out there with a posse.

"Oh, yeah," Mose tapped his head with his finger, "I 'most forgot. Wagon tracks headin' north. I woulda missed it if it weren't for Slim and Jess' horses bein' over there. I reckon they wanted to pull out after their master's were took out."

Mort nodded slowly. Posse. "Thanks, Mose. I'll get right out and start gathering men."

"Mort?" Mose asked, a slight trembling in his voice. "Can I come along? That family, they's as close to bein' my own."

"All right, Mose," Mort nodded, understanding the stage driver's words, for that family, they were close to being his own, too. "I'll get you a horse. Pick out a rifle and meet me at the livery."

The group of riders left Laramie's livery under the damp drizzle, but arrived at the Sherman ranch with a large enough break in the clouds that showed proof that blue existed above the gray. The sky had produced enough moisture to nearly eliminate every trace of evidence in the mud, but they had enough to start northerly. It was mostly an invisible line they followed, but where the trail was naturally rockier, the wagon tracks could be seen where it had bounced, leaving enough marks to know they were heading in the right direction, but that was soon about to change.

The tracks had disappeared nearly a mile behind them and now being paused at a crossroads, Mort didn't know which way to turn. They weren't large enough numbers to split. It was either take one direction or the other, and either way could lead to nothingness if anywhere in the past mile the wagon had taken a turn. Mort twisted in the saddle and looked behind him, giving a slight shake of his head. He wasn't going to go back. It had to be either left or right. The terrain was similar in both ways, but one of the trails wound up into much higher ground that wouldn't support wagon wheels. This was why Mort chose the opposite. With a wave of the sheriff's hand, the posse continued onward.

And high upon that very hillside, concealed behind a rock, a large man waited, his eyes squinting into the distance at the group of men on horseback. He held a rifle and a significant skill to use it, and he never turned down an opportunity to hone it. Now it began to appear that he would have his chance, for the posse's leader was bringing them his way.

…

The wagon came to a stop, an unknown amount of miles away from where it had started at the Sherman ranch. No one in the cramped quarters of its rear could follow the amount of time that had passed, just that it had been too long since they'd last been on their feet. Jess attempted to rise when two thuds on the ground indicated that the wagon seat was now emptied, making it up to one knee, but then the front of his shirt was gripped by a fist, and the next thing he knew, Jess was on the ground. Even tied as he was, Jess wanted to fight back with everything that was in him, but although someone strong had jerked him out of the wagon, he had a feeling that no one was standing over him anymore.

"Perfect," a man's voice suddenly said as two hands clapped together, bringing three heads in the wagon and one on the ground upward. A set of footsteps approached the wagon, but the squishing in the waterlogged earth hadn't begun where the voice had originated, making Slim and Jess' ears turn toward the one that was walking closer to them. "Take them inside, Rex. Make them all comfortable."

Still blindfolded, the descriptive of inside and comfortable varied from one imagination to the other, yet none of them expected to be led into a warm, dry home where there would be a plush settee for each of them, but something much worse. Already being out of the wagon, Rex began with Jess, sliding a knife through the rawhide around Jess' ankles and then with a poking of a rifle in his ribs, ordered him to stand. His first step was produced by a shove, but before the next one was given, Jess complied, taking blinded steps forward until he nearly collided with a wall. Jess was jerked to one side by his arm, another shove pushing him through what must have been a doorway, the rank scent entering his nose telling him that it was nothing more than a shack.

Rex jabbed the rifle into his chest and with more of a grunt than an actual enunciation, Jess was forced to sit, his back feeling the iron rod sticking out of the floor that would be his sole support. His hands were reworked, the threads that had wrapped around his wrists were now woven around the bar, but this time, his ankles were left alone. Jess dropped his head against his chest, his teeth trying to remove the bandana from his mouth and just as he thought his jaw couldn't take one more ounce of strain, the fabric was yanked out of his mouth. Jess tried to bark a retort, but nothing could form on his tongue, the result of his failure to speak bringing an irritating chuckle through Rex' lips. Another attempt in Jess' throat only produced a growl, but it would have been enough to intimidate if the man had not have held tightly to a gun. Rex gave another smirk and then ripped the bandana from Jess' eyes, and with a spin of his heels, Rex walked back through the doorway, practically dragging Jonesy back in.

Jess turned his eyes around the room, which wasn't more than a wooden box with a roof. If there were more than twelve feet in each direction, Jess would have been surprised. Against two walls were the iron rods in the shape of a "T", hammered deeply into the ground and rising several feet above the dirt floor. Jess was secured to one, there was an empty space to his right, and now Jonesy was being tied to one on the adjacent wall. Jess watched as Rex returned to the open door, and craning his head as far as he could stretch, as Andy was being lifted out of the wagon, Jess saw another man standing near the front of the wagon, dressed in a gray suit, topped off with a perfectly bowed tie. He frowned, but the gesture was intensified when Andy's struggling limbs were roughly dropped into the dirt next to Jonesy.

"Ease up," Jess snapped, grateful that his voice could finally match his inner fury. "Why don't you come over here and try that rough stuff with me? Uh-huh, I didn't think you were that brave."

Rex barely gave him a glance, but there was a definite stomp to his feet as the man returned outside, coming back in with Slim. When Slim was tied to his rod next to Jess and removed of both confining handkerchiefs, Rex gave Jess a look that held a significant amount of scathing, but it appeared the man knew his orders. He left through the door without further retaliation, his imminent return unlikely as the sound of the door going locked could be heard by each set of ears. They had been together at this nightmare's beginning, but for the first time since it had begun, the four of them were together without their visual and vocal restraints, but more importantly, they were away from those that had done them harm.

"Is everyone all right?" Slim's voice could only produce a small volume. He swallowed repeatedly, trying to get his tongue and throat to return to a normal feeling. He worked his jaw back and forth and after emitting a slight sound from the back of his throat that contained more force, he repeated the question, taking his eyes from one to the other as both Jess and Andy gave him a nodded reply.

"I think so, Slim," Jonesy gave a slight sigh, his mouth set in a straight line. "Just don't ask me about my back."

"Bad?" Slim prompted with an eyebrow raised, concern etching over every corner of his face.

"I said not to ask, didn't I?" Jonesy answered, starting to shake his head, but then his eyes caught the red stain on Slim's cream shirt that had run past the collar and created a dark circle around the stitching on his upper arm. "Slim! You're bleeding!"

"Not anymore, Jonesy," Slim turned his head so that Jonesy could see closer to the back of his skull. "I got clubbed a good one when they first took hold of me. I didn't notice it bleeding until I was thrown in the wagon."

"I reckon you musta dripped some of it by me," Jess rubbed his fingers together, remembering the warm, wet touch in the wagon. "I was worried that it was you, Andy. Those were your legs hugging my frame, weren't they?"

"Yeah," Andy answered softly, the catch of fear sounding in his voice. "You probably felt them shaking, didn't you, Jess?"

"Sure," Jess shrugged, giving Andy a reassuring smile, even if it only tugged upward on his mouth a little to the side, "but it didn't bother me none. We were all bouncing around so much in the wagon bed that I barely even noticed."

"You're not ashamed of me, are you Jess?" Andy asked, his eyes dropping down to the ground.

"Ashamed?" Jess barely breathed the word, darting his eyes quickly to Slim to see if he had any more understanding than he did to Andy's query, but Slim only gave a slight shake of his head. "Why would I be ashamed of you, Andy?"

"Because of being so afraid," Andy answered, bringing his eyes back up to meet Jess' gaze, now glistening with tears. "You're always so brave, Jess, and I'm scared."

"Andy," Jess started, his voice soft with emotion as he looked at Andy, wishing instead that he could wrap an arm around the boy. "A man learns how to not show his fear, but that don't mean it ain't there."

"But Jess…"

"Wait, there's more," Jess said, the truth of his words shining in his blue eyes. "There ain't no room for shame in a man's heart when it's full of pride. And that's what's in mine for you."

"Thanks, Jess," Andy sniffled, a wobbly smile casting out some of the shadows in the room.

"Sure wish they would've given me a pillow to sit on," Jonesy frowned, trying to find a position less severe, but none existed. "I wonder who they are?"

"Dunno," Jess answered, shifting his own weight as the discomfort had begun before he'd even sat down. "You know, that Rex fella, now I can see him being able to haul our carcasses off the ranch, but that dude out there? Nah, he ain't the type."

"Oh, they aren't the ones that took us," Andy said, shuddering anew at the sight of both men that had clutched him.

"They ain't?" Jess asked, still shifting his legs. "I never got a look at any of 'em, course being knocked out didn't help things none."

"They looked like Indians," Slim said, getting a nod out of Jonesy, "maybe half-breeds. Big, too, both of them taller than me by a few inches at least. Whoever they are, they aren't meant for gentle handling."

"You're telling me," Jess winced, his head still feeling the blow that he'd been given.

"Jess," Slim looked over at Jess, watching him move his legs around in his discomfort, he saw an extra bulk underneath a layer of dirt at the top of his boot. "Is that your knife still in your boot?"

"I'll be dad-gummed," Jess turned his foot over, revealing the knife handle sticking up alongside his lower leg. "They musta overlooked it with all that mud I'm wearing. I wonder if I can…"

They didn't have to wonder for long. Jess stuck the tip of his left foot on the top of his right boot and pushed, inching the boot down until he could slip his foot free. Sliding his socked foot over the boot, he turned it over and then using the spur of his other, with a precise aim that took only two tries to conquer, pulled the knife free. There were three collective sighs of relief as the knife hit the ground, but Jess kept his breath held, using both feet to pull the knife closer to where he might be able to pick it up with his teeth.

"Hold up, Jess," Slim whispered, his head whipping from watching Jess' attempt at freedom to the door, hearing the click of the lock unlatching as the knob started to be turned. "Someone's coming."

"Dad-gum," Jess muttered, quickly shoving his foot back into the boot. He dropped a leg over the knife as the door opened, but part of the blade wasn't completely covered.

"Gentlemen," the man in the suit spoke as he stepped through the doorway with the one called Rex on his heels. "I hope you're comfortable enough."

"Who wouldn't be?" Slim asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. He looked past the two men toward the open door, searching for the ones that had brought them there, but there were no movements anywhere that he could detect. If they had gone, leaving Rex and Mr. Suit alone, maybe they could end this before it would go any further if Jess could put his knife to use.

"Looking for someone?" He crossed his arms over his gray jacket, his eyes narrowing in on Slim.

"Not really," Slim answered, keeping his eyes locked with the man in formal attire. "You're not the one that took us."

"Very astute," the man nodded, a half smile slithering up the side of his face. "The man in charge never does the dirty work, and that Mr. Sherman, is me. So no, those honors go to Bull and Snake, a pair of half-breed brothers that work for me. They run fast and can accomplish nearly any task in complete silence, and they hold the ability to kill without their victim knowing what's happening. That should be useful information to know, don't you think?"

"I'd rather know more about you," Slim said, making the smile disappear.

"Fair enough. My name's Cross. Carlyle Cross. You might hear some of my men call me C.C. But don't think any of you will ever have that privilege."

"I wouldn't," Slim said with a shake of his head, trying not to look at Jess, because he knew his partner had needed to move his legs to fully conceal the knife, and at that moment, it had happened.

"Rex," Cross' eyes darted from Rex to Jess, giving a nod in Jess' direction. "I don't miss much, Harper."

In a few short strides, Rex was in front of Jess, giving him a swift kick in his right leg, the handle of the knife in his hand before any of them could blink. "I got it, C.C."

"That could stand for coward or clown, you know," Jonesy said, his eyes crashing closed a second later. The knife was thrown and it sliced through the air, piercing the wall a mere inch from Jonesy's left ear.

"If I want your backtalk Jonesy, I'll request it," Cross said sharply.

He knew them all. Slim had never laid eyes on this man before and his name was just as unfamiliar, yet Cross had called Slim, Jess, and Jonesy by name. Slim took a deep breath, but it wasn't enough to squelch the heat rising in his middle. Slim watched through narrow slits as Rex pulled the knife out of the wall and clutched the handle in his hand. He'd only spent a short time in their presence, yet Slim had already had enough. He wanted an answer. None of this was happening for nothing.

"What do you want?" Slim asked firmly.

"You're clever, Sherman," Cross said, the smile on his face sickeningly smug, "you know I want something. It's true. I do. But I'll let you know what it is in due time, but you can guarantee that I'll get it."

"How?" Slim asked, something tapping his temples that the answer was to be feared.

"Because I'm ruthless. I think now's a good time to show you how far I'll go to get what I want. Rex," Cross snapped his fingers, "cut the boy loose."

"No! Leave him be!" Slim shouted, his eyes darting away from Cross to rest upon his brother's face, seeing it full of fear from Andy's dark eyes to the slight tremble of his lips. Both Sherman's winced when Jess' knife sliced through the binds behind Andy's back, another one coming when Rex' hand gripped around Andy's wrist and hauled him to his feet.

"You're not in authority here, Sherman," Cross pointed to his chest, his voice carrying a distinct chill. "I am. Come here, boy. I said… come here."

"Leave him alone, Cross," Slim said, his own voice carrying a dose of ice shards, but the sound would soon begin to melt when the man's hand clamped down on Andy's shoulder. His pulse was already going at a rapid pace, but it accelerated several more notches when Cross started leading Andy toward the door, matching with something in Slim's middle that had just reached its boiling point. "Don't you take him out of here! Cross! I don't know what you want but I'll give it! Cross! No! Let him go! Cross! Listen to me! I'll give it! Cross!"

But it was as if Cross couldn't hear a word, his grip never releasing from Andy's flesh as he took him out of the shack. The sharp words went quiet as Slim's mouth went dry. His body turned rigid, his eyes never leaving the door that Andy had been led through, but upon its closing, Jess began twisting and turning his wrists, trying to release his body from its tight hold. Jess could feel the dampening of blood start to drip down his fingers, but even though it brought him pain, it gave Jess a vital edge. The moisture made the rawhide move, and Jess' pace increased, wiggling his fingers, straining every part of his hands, wrists and arms. His fingers were beginning to loosen the hold around his wrists when his body was suddenly jolted by a gunshot. His head snapped toward the door, the breath caught in his throat, time and fear suspended in the air. Then there was a second shot.

"My God," Jonesy whispered, his head bowing, a tear threatening to trickle down his wrinkled cheek.

The third blast seemed to shake the building, or perhaps it was the breaking of each heart.

"No," Slim's voice cracked, his face as ashen as if he were dead.

The fourth shot seemed to be felt in every chest, the men frozen in dread and pain.

"Andy," Jess barely whispered, hatred igniting the fire throughout his entire body, shining in the sparks of his eyes and the increased pumping of torrid air through his chest.

The fifth and sixth shots came with little time in between, their bodies flinching with each, everything inside as damaged as if the bullets had penetrated into their own flesh.

And then there was silence.

:.:.:

_A huge shout out to Kappa Girl, who gave me a light bulb moment at her request to include Mort and Mose in the story! I had originally planned on only the core four as characters, but it was only a few minutes after receiving her review that I had the added story arc in mind. Thank you! Also, NicknHotchfan wanted Mort and Mose included, so a nod goes to you as well._

_Thanks to kcandsting, your reminder of Jess having a knife in his boot was put to good use, although probably not to Jess' liking._

_Another handshake of thanks goes to Nakoosay, requesting that I take care of Alamo and Traveler, her tender heart showing toward Laramie's favorite animals. Also a thank you goes to WillowDryad, as I gave a slight nod to her wish to see Traveler want to untie himself and save the day. He gave an attempt, but to tie Nakoosay and WillowDryad's requests together, I had to take care of them and not let them wander for long._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The mournful hush couldn't contain its heavy grip in the small, windowless room for long. The silence dissolved from a stunned shock to the wracking of an older man's body, the tears coursing down his cheeks now mingling with the sniffing of his nose, and then the gentle sound of grief emitted from his mouth. Jonesy's head was low, the pain of loss throbbing in his temples all the way down to his core. He took a shaky breath, quickly followed by another, as the first wasn't deep enough to replace the quivering of his lips with the hallowed words that were running repeatedly through his mind.

"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me'…" Jonesy's voice trailed off, the emotion overwhelming him, the next verse only being able to be produced through his head before his lips could find the ability to form the words into sound again. "'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever'."

"Oh, Andy," Slim's head went backward, the rod preventing him from looking straight up. "Dear God, they killed him. They killed Andy."

Jess looked over at Slim, the torture tearing through his body as strong as he had ever felt it, knowing that it was the same pulse of grievous suffering that Slim was feeling. Except in Slim, it was worse. He wanted to say something encouraging, as though a positive "what if" existed, but nothing could be formed on Jess' lips other than the bitterness that he tasted on his tongue.

"Why?" A moan came from Slim's chest, and then a heartbreaking sob broke through his mouth.

Jess didn't think his heart could have shattered any further, but seeing Slim broken apart and tears in his eyes undid Jess even more. He shuddered, the birth of retaliation coming in explosive proportions in his veins. He still heard every shot that was fired on a firm rotation in his head, but the sound had just switched directions, with Jess at the trigger's end, a man in a suit at the other. He would get him. He would get them all. Jess knew that Slim would be feeling the same lightning bolts of revenge, and Jonesy was likely included in that category too, but it would be his hands that would perform them. It would have to be.

"I'll kill them for this, Slim," Jess vowed through gritted teeth, his fists growing tight together. "With my bare hands if need be, I'll kill them for what they've done, even if there's a gallows waiting for me at the end."

The shock of death and its cruelty had numbed Jess' mind, the pinpointed memory of his own activity gone, for the rawhide around his wrists was still in the same position as it had been when the first bullet was fired. He wasn't inches from freedom, but the bindings had slipped enough that if his hands had still been working to fulfill his attempt, when the door was pushed open, Jess might have honored his vow sooner than anyone had expected. The taste was so vile in Jess' mouth at the sight of Cross that he spit as the man stepped through the door, the shot of saliva just missing his foot between strides. Cross hadn't missed it, but he kept his eyes focused on Slim as he stuck his thumbs in the belt loops around his waist.

"My, my, you do look miserable," Cross said shaking his head, adding an annoying tsk-tsk, "you'd think you had just lost a brother."

"You think you're a big man," Jess growled, his eyes in slits as he stared at Cross. "If you're gonna show how big you can get, why didn't you show it to me instead? I'd grind you under my foot and show just how low you really are!"

"If I wanted to talk to you, Harper," Cross turned slightly toward Jess, "then I'd address you. But right now, all I'm interested in is Sherman. Well, Sherman?"

"What do you want?" Slim's voice started out soft, the quivering of his lips unmasked, but it quickly gained strength, until what emitted from his mouth was like a cannon had fired. "What do you want!"

"Well, for starters, I wanted to prove my point," Cross stared at Slim, not trying to hide his gloating at Slim's obvious agony. "And since by looking at you, it appears I fully accomplished that. But as for what I really want, I'm going to drag out the suspense just a little while longer."

Slim shook his head in disbelief, his voice still high in volume, "you killed my brother and you don't have the gall to tell me why?"

"Oh, I didn't kill anyone," Cross said, holding back a chuckle.

"Sure," Jess barked, fiery sparks flying from his eyes and in the sharp enunciation of each word, "'cause you don't do the dirty work, so you let one of your goons do it for you. That still ain't gonna save you from what I've got in mind for you."

"Harper," Cross said, giving Jess an aggravated eye roll, "I thought I told you that I only wish to converse with Sherman. Until that changes, shut up!" Cross took a deep breath and then once more faced Slim. "Now, back to our business. I told you I'm ruthless, and it's true, but no, Sherman, I didn't kill your brother. I wouldn't kill someone that I can still use. Rex," Cross turned his head toward the door. "Bring the boy back in."

"What?" Slim jumped, forgetting his bindings and he jerked his arms hard away from the iron rod as Rex pushed Andy through the door. He was upright, whole, and not a drop of blood was on him. "Andy!"

"I'm all right, Slim," Andy answered softly, wanting to race to his brother's side, but knowing that he couldn't as Rex stopped him next to Cross. Andy couldn't hide the shudder that coursed through his body when Cross put an arm around his shoulders.

"Why you…you…no good…" Slim seethed, his cheeks bursting with the fire he felt inside, yet it was his fury that silenced the flames that he really wanted to throw. He hadn't been too far from sharing Jess' burning retaliation, and now discovering that his pain had only been produced by a farce, Slim was even closer to being at a killer's edge.

"What's this all about?" Jonesy asked, his eyes unable to stop the fresh tears from escaping his eyelids, ones that were now carrying the marks of relief, yet his heart still battled between grief and fear. The man still had Andy in his clutch. "Or am I not allowed to ask?"

"You catch on quick, Jonesy," Cross nodded with one of his sinister smiles, "but since you're more polite than Harper, I'll go ahead and answer. I had to make all of you believe that I'll go to any length to make sure I get what I want, and that includes killing a boy. Or, as a matter of fact, killing any of you. What do you say, Jonesy, do you want to be my next victim? Maybe," Cross took the two steps necessary to be nearly toe to toe with Jess, "I'll choose you. Except then it won't be a game anymore. It'll be the real deal."

"Go ahead and try," Jess challenged, his blue eyes locked with Cross' evil pair, that although were brown, were suddenly the darkest black.

"Some other time," Cross swallowed, the first indication that he held a portion of fear in his bones for Jess. "But as I was saying, I had to prove to each of you that I mean business. I think by that little display out there that I made myself quite clear."

"What'd you do, just fire all your rounds into the sky, just to take pleasure in another man's grief?" Slim asked, his lungs only a small part of his body that reacted heavily to how he felt. He couldn't stop his limbs from trembling, the shock, relief, and rage too much for him to suppress. Slim felt as if his body had been physically beaten, emotionally it had been and it was reacting in an insurmountable way that he'd never felt before.

"You're wrong, there, Sherman," Cross laughed, sticking a finger in his chest. "I wasn't even holding a gun at all. Rex' gun went unfired, too. I'd let you check it, but that would be pretty stupid of me."

"But all those shots…" Jonesy shook his head, his mouth agape.

"That was all Andy's doing. You see, I was teaching the boy how to shoot," Cross smiled, hugging Andy close to his side. "He's not very good, you know, but in time, he could learn to be a marksman. He hit two of his targets anyway, so it wasn't a total loss. I enjoyed it."

"I'll bet," Jess snapped, his hands reshaping into fists, creating a trickle of blood to drip down a finger. It was in this moment that Jess remembered that before the fear took over, the rawhide had started to slide. He straightened his back, his hands completely hidden and began to flex his fingers, the tightest band slipping over one thumb. "Sick men do have a twisted version of entertainment."

"That 'entertainment' as you call it, Harper, can easily be for you. Now for the last time, pipe down!"

"You could have accomplished your point by firing the gun into the air," Jonesy said, still daring to use his speech, but wary that he could be the next one that Cross would demand to be quiet. "Why'd you let Andy shoot?"

"It had its purpose," Cross said, patting Andy on the arm. "You see, Andy here is going to show his big brother what he learned to do with a gun."

"What do you mean?" Slim asked, not turning his eyes away from Andy's frightened face. Somehow, just by looking at his brother, Slim knew that Andy was already well informed of what was happening next.

"You sweat easily," Cross explained, still wearing his repulsive grin. "Let's see you sweat some more. Because it's my belief that if I sweat a man enough, he'll give in without a fight."

"You're gonna get a fight all right, you just wait until I…"

"Harper," Cross snapped, something on his inside and his outside, his fingers producing the sound as his chest produced the rest. "You're one second away from being removed from the building. And if I have to do that, there won't be any practice session with guns out there. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ease off, Jess," Slim warned quickly, real fear coursing through his body of what would happen if Cross pulled Jess out of the room.

"Now if we can finally continue," Cross took a step backward so that Andy was in front of him, yet his left hand didn't leave the boy's shoulder. "Andy's going to show off his firing skills, and you, big brother, are going to be his target."

"What?" The astonished word came out of Slim's mouth first, but it was quickly echoed by both Jess and Jonesy.

"He's not supposed to shoot you, Sherman," Cross said, taking his index finger to draw a circle in the air, "just around you. But if he misses and hits you, well, let's just hope that the miss isn't to one of your vitals."

"You're crazy," Jonesy said, his eyes wide with renewed fear.

"You might be right, Jonesy," Cross gently laughed and then his face finally drew to a serious expression. "Now, to make sure this is done right, Harper is going to need to be subdued. Rex," Cross gave a slight nod toward Jess, "make Harper be good."

As Rex stepped in front of him, Jess had no choice but to still his hands and he gripped his fingers tightly together to try to block the view of the rawhide that was starting to unwind. He could do nothing about the blood that dripped down his wrists and onto the ground, but he hoped that Rex wouldn't have a reason to bend down and see the red splatters against the iron rod behind him. Jess stared up at Rex and the gun in his hand, pointed dangerously close to his heart, but it wasn't this gun where Jess' focus would remain. But on another.

"All right, Andy," Cross opened his jacket and pulled out a pistol, placing it into Andy's palm. "Just like I taught you. Firm grip of the handle and easy pull on the trigger."

"Don't think about anything this lamebrain mighta told you, Andy," Jess said, getting Andy's head to turn in his direction. "Do like I taught you. Point, don't aim. You can do it. I know you can."

"But I…" Andy's voice barely could produce volume, his hand slowly bringing the gun away from his side, only to be dropped back down again.

"Go ahead, Andy," Slim said, knowing that his courage needed to support his brother, and he hoped that it shone in his eyes clear enough for Andy to see. "I'm not afraid, you don't have to be either."

"But…but Slim," Andy wavered, his hand shaking enough that the pistol visibly quivered against his side. "I could…could shoot you."

"Maybe the gun's not even loaded," Jonesy suggested, trying to tap into Cross' conniving mind, "and he just wants to scare us some more. Cross has already proved that he's got no more scruples than a rattlesnake before it chomps you to death."

"Interesting thinking, Jonesy," Cross smiled, nudging Andy on the back. "Go ahead and pull the trigger so everyone can find out if it's loaded or not. Do it, or do I let Rex trigger his into Harper instead?"

"Fire the gun, Andy," Slim said, locking his gaze with his brother's, his words steady like the rock that he really was. "I trust you."

"Go ahead, Andy, what are you waiting for?" Cross said, his own gun finally being revealed, showing everyone in the room that Andy didn't dare turn around with a gun in his hand. "Oh, and you can't cheat and send the bullet into the roof or into the ground. And one more thing, if one of your bullets hits that rod behind your brother, the bullet will likely ricochet. It could hit you, Jonesy or even Harper."

"Or you," Jonesy said wryly.

"You can always have hope, can't you Jonesy?" Cross said with a prevalent frown. "But what you need to hope is that Andy's aim has perfected since our little practice session out there. Get going, kid, I'm tired of waiting for the show to start."

"Come on, Andy," Jess coached, knowing that Andy would believe his every word as his faith had always been firmly planted in the former gunfighter. "The first will be the hardest, and as soon as that one's behind you, you'll have the confidence for the others. Point your finger. That's your aim. And fire."

The gun was slowly raised and the hammer was pulled back, and a fearful set of eyes stared down its sights. This was a place where no man ever expected to be in, facing the barrel of a gun held by one of his most trusted. Slim knew he had to remain as still and calm as possible, any flinch, no matter how small, could throw off Andy's aim. Slim gave a slight nod, and the trigger was pulled, the bullet ramming into the wall five inches away from Slim's left arm. There was no time for a sigh of relief, for Andy's thumb was reaching up for the hammer again. Slim nodded a second time, the beads of sweat on his forehead matching the line of moisture on his brother's brow and the trigger was pulled again, the blast making the boy jump as another hole was created in the wall. This time, only a fraction of an inch from the same arm.

It had been too close. Andy's hand was drenched in sweat, the quivering of his arms and legs making the gun want to slide out of his hand. He knew by the pressure at his back that he would be forced to continue, so he returned the gun to its point, fear and guilt prickling into his skin like porcupine quills. Andy sought his brother's face, and saw in his whole being a solid faith, a man without fear. He knew in that moment that he didn't have just one hero, but he had two. Jess _and_ Slim. He gave a nod, seeing Slim return it, and Andy pulled the trigger, the bullet finding the wall again, this time, just above Slim's head. He prepared the gun one more time, the last bullet too uncomfortable to place it similarly, and Andy fired the gun, the bullet lodging into the wood lower toward the floor. Hadn't Cross distinctly said not to do that?

Andy trembled, fear of the retaliation that could strike him, but Cross didn't attempt a reprimand, but it was enough to unravel any confidence that had been built up by the previous four shots. Andy found a spot on the wall, licked his lip and pulled the trigger, his eyes wincing shut at the pressure underneath his finger, but then they popped wide open as Slim's body recoiled from the impact of the bullet slamming into his right shoulder.

"Slim!" Andy cried, the gun feeling like fire in his palm, he dropped it to the ground and lunged toward Slim, but Cross clamped a hand on his arm, preventing him from taking more than one step.

"Not just yet," Cross said, picking the gun up off of the floor. "You still have one more bullet left. Fire it."

"No," Andy said defiantly, refusing the offered gun in Cross' hand.

"You either will, or I will," Cross raised the gun, pointing it at Slim's skull. "What'll it be?"

"All right. I'll…I'll do it," Andy held out his palm and Cross grinned wickedly as the gun filled Andy's hand once more. He didn't care what might happen to him afterward, but he wasn't going to point anywhere near Slim this final time. Andy touched the trigger, the bullet sailing overhead coming to a stop near the roofline.

"I'm done with you now, boy," Cross shoved Andy back toward the rod that had been his. "Sit down."

"Ow," Andy couldn't help but wince as Cross forcefully pulled both hands together and retied his wrists, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks, but not from any pain to his own flesh.

"You have enough fun yet?" Slim asked, staring up at Cross as the man regained his position in front of him, trying to keep his breathing steady as his blood pumped through the hole in his shoulder.

"We'll see," Cross tucked the gun that Andy had fired in at his belt line. "But now that I have your undivided attention, here's the deal. I want your ranch, Sherman, and by the time I'm done with all of you, I'm not going to have to take it, you're going to flat out give it to me."

…

The first gunshot brought Mort's hand up, his first reaction was to stop the posse from going forward, but his second came swiftly after. He gasped as an internal pain throbbed in his chest, the shots still coming, one after the other, counting six in all. An icy pit solidly formed in Mort's middle, resulting in a shiver down his spine. Six shots. Four victims. Mort suddenly turned pale as the realization of what the gunfire might have meant. Six shots could have been needed, not just four, considering how well Mort knew the victims, in particularly one. It could have easily taken more than one bullet to down Jess Harper.

"Whaddya make of it, Mort?" Mose asked, his eyes, as were every other posse man, scanning the hills above them.

"Sounds like only one gun, not a back and forth battle," Mort rubbed his jaw, the fear and reality stinging all over his flesh.

He took a deep breath, gauging the distance of the gunfire to the posse's location. A mile, maybe a little further, but he knew they definitely needed to lessen the gap. Mort turned in the saddle, looking in the faces of the seven men that rode with him, some etched with fear, others with determination, but all with one goal in mind. Do the job they set out to do. Mort returned a forward motion in the saddle, ready to continue onward, when another round of shots were fired. His heart leaping in his chest, Mort kept the posse stilled, knowing that a normal man with friends in danger would rush quickly ahead. But Mort wasn't just a friend, he was a lawman. And he had to do this right.

"I don't know what's up there, boys," Mort said, the caution as evident on his face as in his voice, "but we're taking it slowly. Let's go."

Foot by foot, the space between the posse and the lone man atop the hill was being eaten away, although much slower than the gunman had anticipated. The lawman must have been smart. He waited, knowing that if he fired too quickly, the men below him would have a chance to scatter. He waited, the minutes ticking by, each one bringing a rush of anticipation in his chest. He had waited, but now the waiting was over. His rifle was raised and pointed, a slow countdown forming on his lips that started at ten. At five he closed one eye, searching for the star. At two he found it. At zero he fired.

…

"You want my ranch?" Slim questioned, exchanging glances with Jess and Jonesy, although the look he shared with Jonesy was more in concern with a bullet being lodged in his flesh.

"That's what I said, oh, Rex," Cross said, reaching a hand forward, he pressed his fingers near Slim's wound, more blood seeping out at the touch. "Go get a cloth or something for Sherman. Make sure it's clean, we wouldn't want him to get a deadly infection."

"Right," Rex nodded, holstering his weapon, he finally stepped away from Jess, and once more, his hands began to work on the binds behind him.

"That would really bother you, wouldn't it?" Slim asked, trying not to grimace at the pulsating pain.

"Might cry a river," Cross returned with a similar amount of sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Here C.C.," Rex said when he returned a minute later with a folded towel, which was promptly thrown in Slim's direction. "Bull's outside, said a posse's coming."

"Why should that disturb me?" Cross shrugged his shoulders. "Snake will take care of them. You must be highly regarded in Laramie, considering how quickly a posse was on our trail. Nevertheless, that won't affect our business any. I'll leave you for now, Sherman," Cross said, one foot pointing toward the door. "You can discuss between yourselves what you wish to do about my proposal."

"How bad is it, Slim?" Jonesy asked when the door went shut.

"It's not too bad," Slim lied. He couldn't describe the wound's torture when the one that had pulled the trigger was sitting near him, in obvious more pain than he physically was in.

"I'm sorry, Slim," Andy dropped his head close to his chest and cried, his body heaving with repeated sobs.

"Don't cry, Andy," Slim said, taking a sharp intake of breath to steady his voice. "This isn't your fault, none of it is. You didn't shoot me, not really, not where it counts anyway. You were forced to pull the trigger, but your heart didn't intend to hurt me."

"But…but Slim…" Andy whimpered, unable to look at the bloody mass on Slim's shoulder. "You could die."

"I'm not going to die, Andy," Slim promised, although he knew he couldn't make his words turn into a truth.

"It'll take more than a little bullet to do in ol' Hardrock here, Andy, you know that," Jess said, trying to sound more positive than he felt. "Dad-gum, all this for the ranch? What do you think he wants it for anyway?"

"I don't know," Slim shook his head, trying to let the air slowly pass in and out of his lips. "I've been trying to figure that out. Can't be just the land, could it? The railroad maybe?"

"Could be," Jonesy said with a shrug, turning his head toward Slim, "but I know one thing, he's not finished with us yet, that's for sure."

"He will be if I can just," Jess squirmed, pushing his fingers against the leather around his hands, "get this dad-gummed," he pulled as tight as he could, the rawhide finally snapping under the intense pressure. "Got it!"

"Jess! You're free!" Andy exclaimed, the sound of joy in his throat replacing the deeply etched guilt.

"Yeah, and I'll have you the same in no time. But first," Jess hurried to Slim's side and put one knee to the ground. He pulled Slim's shirt opened, peeled away the folded cloth and looked at the wound. Only flesh appeared to be involved, but danger still lurked inside as long as the bullet remained there.

"No, Jess," Slim gasped as Jess replaced the cloth into his shoulder with a firm press. "You can't free us."

"What do you mean?" Jess barked, but then dropped his voice to a hiss. "I ain't gonna leave you tied up, especially with you shot and bleeding all over the place."

"We have nothing to fight with, Jess," Slim said, looking hard in Jess' face, trying to get his partner to lock eyes with him. "They could be back any minute. You have to get out of here now. Every second counts."

"I've got my fists, and by the way I feel inside, that's all it's gonna take. I'm gonna have them, Slim," Jess tapped his palm firmly with a finger, "right here in my hands."

"The only way you'll get that chance is to get out of here. Now will you do as I say and get going?"

"I dunno, Slim," Jess held out his hands so Slim could see his bloody wrists. "I didn't cut my hands and wrists up just so I can be the only one to breathe some fresher air."

"You have to go, Jess," Slim put his left hand on Jess' arm, getting his complete attention to Slim's face. "You really have no other choice."

"Maybe not, but," Jess answered, starting to see Slim's point, but then he turned, his aim for Andy's rod. "At least lemme take Andy outta here."

"No, Jess," Slim refused to release Jess' arm, pulling him back in front of him. "You have to go alone."

"I ain't gonna leave you here like this," Jess tugged his arm out of Slim's grasp and headed for the door. "Besides, it's a fool notion anyway, the door's locked. I'll just wait for them to come back in and jump them."

"You can't jump them all. I know what you're capable of, but our ambition is to get out of here alive. I already thought I lost someone important; don't make me have to witness the actual loss of another."

"I don't know if it'll be any help," Jonesy motioned with his head behind him. "But there's been a cold draft at my back since I sat down here."

"I'll take a look," Jess stepped behind Jonesy, dropping his knees into the soil where it was noticeably damper. He dug his hands into the soft soil and pulled the mound toward him, the boards in the wall starting to move as their support was no longer underneath. "There's a coupla loose boards down here letting air through. I think I can break this one out. Yeah, it's pulling easy. It feels colder outside. Wind musta changed. Sorry, Jonesy, I'm gonna make a bigger draft."

"That's all right," Jonesy found a grin, "just you get going so that I can be in front of a warm fire before bedtime." But then Jonesy's smile faded slightly as Jess took his coat off and wrapped it around Jonesy's shoulders. "Oh, Jess, you don't have to do that. But, thank you."

"Get going, Jess," Slim said, his voice firm with the command.

"Slim," Jess hesitated at the opening, "I can't leave you here like this."

"I'd be no good out there, Jess," Slim said, the truth of his words emblazoned like the blood on his shirt. "I don't have the strength to run."

"I'd make it about three feet and then keel over," Jonesy said, barely lifting one leg from the ground.

"I'd only slow you down, Jess," Andy said softly, trying not to cry again knowing that Jess was about to leave, "what with the way you'd be watching out for me."

"Go, Jess," Slim's voice hammered even harder. "Hurry. They said there was a posse coming, remember? Get to that posse, Jess, and then you can save us all."

"Slim…I…"

"Go, Jess!"

He'd been given his orders, and although he knew Slim was right, it took every ounce of his strength to obey them. Jess crawled through the opening, the damp air holding a distinct chill, but he wouldn't allow his body a single shiver. He stepped cautiously away from the building, his eyes darting back and forth for any one of his adversaries. There was nothing in sight. Not a man, not a horse, not another building. But there was plenty of cover for any of these things to be hidden, by boulders, brush and trees all around.

Jess looked up at the sky, the gray darkening, indicating a later hour, but not giving him a clear signal of which direction to take. Jess took one step, knowing that he was completely open to any seeing eyes, and as a gunshot didn't explode into his being, Jess took another, his pace quickening with each drop of his foot onto the ground. Now at a run, Jess sped over the rocky ground, increasing the rate of his strides until he met his maximum ability. An ache formed in his chest, both from the rapid action of his lungs and the tearing of his soul from leaving their place of torture alone.

Shots suddenly erupted behind him and Jess slid to a stop. Breathing heavily through his open mouth, he turned in each direction, his rapid heart rate throbbing in his chest and temples, the fear its own pulsating thrum that hammered just as quickly. He was about to retrace his steps when another round of gunfire peppered the air, but without the pounding of his feet underneath him, Jess could better gauge its direction. Too far to the right. The posse, not the shack. He would have felt relief, but the distance of the shots told him that he'd taken the wrong route. Instead of going toward the posse, Jess had run away from it. He would have to go back.

"Dad-gum," Jess wheezed, lowering his head as he dropped his hands to his knees, trying to return the air going in and out of his lungs to normalcy, but he wouldn't get the chance. He heard nothing, but something triggered his sense of alarm and slowly, Jess raised his head. Squinting into the distance, Jess saw the figure of a man, but it wasn't just any man, it was a half-breed, in a dead run coming right at him. And if Jess' vision could be trusted, there was a rifle held in the man's right hand.

"_They run fast and can accomplish nearly any task in complete silence, and they hold the ability to kill without their victim knowing what's happening."_

The echo of Cross' words flitted into Jess' head and he went upright, his legs moving faster than they'd taken him before, but he knew that he was no match for the one that sprinted after him. Jess kept his focus on what was before him, knowing that any wrong step could be his last, but he had to take one daring glance behind. The gap between both men was steadily closing. Jess tried to push his body harder, but it had taken nearly all it could handle. His knew his legs were giving out, but he refused to stop. The terrain, however, begged to differ.

Jess barely got his feet stilled before there was nothing underneath him. He was at a cliff's edge, the gap in the earth unable to be seen from the approaching distance as it was only a crevice, the span wide enough that a man might not be able to jump it, but the distance below so far that a man would never survive it. Jess turned, the man close enough now that he could see distinguishing marks, most notably, the rifle. And that was likely only a small portion of his arsenal. He had no other choice. The other side boasted more cover, his side, nearly none. Jess took a deep breath and running a few steps backward to gain forward momentum, Jess leapt through the air, his hands reaching out as the distance needed more than what his legs could offer.

His palms hit the edge of the cliff side and Jess dug his fingers in, but there wasn't anything solid to grip. Jess' chest and stomach hugged the rock wall, but his legs dangled loosely in the air. As he attempted to hoist himself up, he heard the rifle behind him being prepared to fire and Jess ducked his head, the bullet bouncing off of the rock wall where his skull had been moments before. Another crack of the rifle brought a bullet close enough to Jess' hand that he felt the scattering of pebbles bounce across his knuckles, the already open skin stinging with the impact of the shards of debris. His breath came in short puffs, waiting for the next bullet, but at the same time, feeling his grip loosen. He wasn't going to make it. One by one, Jess' fingers pulled loose from the cliff, the bullet no longer necessary, his body beginning to flail as it suddenly knew his fate.

Jess took one look down at what was below him, and then he knew nothing but rushing air, his body powerless as he hurtled downward.

:.:.:

_I admit most of this chapter comes from my own conniving mind. I have received some good ideas from readers that I will put to use, but it was too soon for certain types of action to be included._

_The big thanks here goes to Daryl Silvers, who gave me the "reason" after chapter one, but I couldn't give a glaring spoiler at the end of chapter 2, since it wasn't revealed until now that Cross wants the ranch. Also, an added thank you goes to NicknHotchfan, who helped show me that I was leading the readers in the right direction in my storytelling by accurately guessing the reason for the kidnapping._

_To CoryLynne, even though Mort's "piece" in this chapter is small, do know that doesn't mean he and the posse will be out of the picture. They are a solid part of this story, so thank you for wanting to make sure they have more of just an "in and out" role._

_Kappa Girl, all I can say is that your suggestion intrigues me, so stay tuned._

_Also, I just wanted to add that this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I didn't realize it was growing to be so lengthy until I glanced at the word count. I repeatedly went over it to see if there was anywhere that I could rewrite, omit or divide it into another chapter, but decided that it felt right as I first created it. And so, if it seems to go on forever or be too wordy, I apologize. Thank you all for your continued support. I appreciate it more than you can know. CW_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The crack of the rifle and the impact of the bullet slammed into Mort at the same instant. His head went forward over his horse's neck, the hot sting penetrating his arm like a flaming poker had been inserted into his flesh and not allowed to be removed. Mort clenched his teeth together, wanting to rise to get a view of the terrain where the bullet had flown from, but instinct told him to remain low. His horse had already slowed, as had his companions, and he was about to give a command to seek cover when his hat was blown off of his head, the involuntary reaction making Mort's body slam into the ground.

"Mort!" The exclaim had barely left Mose's throat when another gunshot tore an accurate path. A body dropped from a saddle behind him, and Mose pulled his mount backward, his gun in his hand, firing repeatedly at an unknown position above him as the remaining posse men did the same.

The man toting the rifle cursed, dodging behind the security of a massive rock as bullets from multiple guns returned in his direction, although none were popping close enough to his large frame to create a concern. He knew he was well hidden. But being well hidden wasn't his duty. Keeping the posse from advancing was. He had thought taking the leader out with one shot would have been enough to create a total retreat, but sometimes plans didn't always succeed. The first shot hadn't been a true miss, his aim unswervingly at the badge, or at least, what was behind the star, but at the last possible second, the lawman reached an arm across his chest. The second bullet destined for the posse's leader he would own as a mistake, the bullet hitting too high above his head to count, only putting a hole through his hat instead. One error was enough; he wouldn't make another. And the posse man with a bullet in his gut wouldn't be arguing with him about it.

Stepping out away from his cover, he sent a handful of bullets down below him, hearing another grunt as at least one did its damage. Ducking quickly backward, as someone's aim had come closer, he paused only a few seconds before cracking several more shots at the men that were on the right side of the law. They were tenacious, he would give them that credit, but they were failing fast. There were too many on the ground, their source of life draining away if not already gone. He fired at the remaining members that were starting to flee, landing them close enough that they would have felt the wind pass, but he was done with killing. For now.

"Mort," Mose gasped when the air around him became stilled from gunfire. His back was to the ground and he turned his head, seeking a sign of life in the lawman near him. He had taken a bullet at the lowest part of his neck, just a portion, the bullet doing no more than clipping a line of skin, but enough to make him leveled. "You dead?"

"I'm still breathing, Mose," Mort replied with a pained whisper. His arm was held tight to his chest, his palm closed over the wound in an attempt to reduce its flow, but as quickly as his heart was pumping, the blood came just as rapidly.

"Good," Mose sighed, part of him wanting to rise, but the other half knowing that he needed to remain stilled, lest the gunman still had a beady eye pinned on them. "Some of the others didn't fair the same. Beasley took one for keeps, and I 'spect Rothland's done for, too."

"The rest?" Mort prompted, the dread in his middle as painful as the throbbing of his arm. He always felt the weight of failure whenever a posse under his leadership received damage. He and Mose were hurt, two others were dead, and that was just the beginning. There was still no way of knowing what was beyond the gunman that wouldn't let them by.

"I lost sight of 'em when I went down," Mose answered, turning his head away from Mort to the retreating trail. "Don't see 'em anywhere. Musta fled."

"Don't blame them the way the bullets were flying," Mort said, trying to rise, the groan in his chest deepening as he made it up into a seated position. "You hurt bad?"

"I'll live," Mose replied, seeing that Mort wasn't gaining another piece of lead by getting up, he pulled himself to wobbly knees. "You?"

"Got a bullet stuck in my arm," Mort answered with a grimace as he momentarily removed his hand to get a look at what was imbedded in his skin, "but I've had worse wounds and have still been kicking afterward, so this shouldn't be any different."

"Good to hear," Mose shifted his head from right to left, only two of their horse's still in sight. Mort's and one of the dead men's. The others, like the remaining posse men, must have scattered. "What're we gonna do?"

"We'll have to pause this fight for now," Mort's eyes were trained on the hillside, the man who had been responsible for two deaths and two injuries was either gone, dead, or still up there, and Mort had the distinct feeling it was the latter. "After we care for Beasley and Rothland, we'll go to the Sherman ranch. There's no one there, and along with taking care of the ranch for Slim, we can use it to recoup and regroup. I'm sure Munson will watch the town for me since I won't be back there for a day or two. Normal sheriff's duties can wait, but this, I won't be giving up on."

"You're plannin' on comin' back up here, then?" Mose asked, blotting his neck with his handkerchief.

"I've got to," Mort's tone was as solid as the piece of lead that had struck him, his eyes on the trail above him.

He was a sheriff. Someone was up there, breaking law after law, threatening lives and ending lives, and he wasn't going to be sidelined by one of their bullets for long. He was a sheriff, but he also was a friend. He'd be back. He'd most definitely be back.

…

"Slim," Andy's voice was a soft shudder, his eyes shut tight as if blocking out his vision would also hinder the sound of the repeated gunshots in the distance. "What's happening?"

"I don't know, Andy," Slim gently shook his head, biting his lip in response to both the pain in his shoulder and fear of the unknown possibilities between both sides of the gunplay. "Probably the posse exchanging bullets with the half-breeds. Rex, too, maybe."

"What about Jess?" Andy opened his eyes then to look at his brother, wanting to see the same confidence built into his every feature as it had been when he had stood across from Slim, firing a gun with Slim as his target. But what he saw was a reflective image of his own, although Slim was doing a better job at trying to hide the fear than he was. Yet it was still there, and Andy shivered harder. "You think that he…"

"We can't think the worst," Jonesy said, trying not to wince as the end of his statement was followed by another round of gunshots.

"But Jess was heading for the posse," Andy turned his head toward the direction of the staccato blasts, unable to follow Jonesy's advice.

"Jess has dodged more bullets than any normal man in his lifetime," Jonesy gave a resolute nod. "If he hadn't done a good job, he'd look like a piece of aged Swiss cheese by now."

"I know how you feel, Andy," Slim took a deep breath, the air growing silent, but the sound of the bullets somehow still rang in his ears. "But try not to be afraid. We can't give up on him just because some bullets were flying. You know that stubborn determination of his just as well as I do. Believe in it."

"I wonder what the silence means," Jonesy pondered softly as each mind was unable to dispel the worst case scenarios, but also felt a ray of hope inching its way forward.

The silence stretched from a few seconds, to several minutes, all the way through the entire hour. Slim kept turning his head toward the opening that Jess escaped from, listening for returning footsteps, the only result producing several sighs through his lips. He would have returned by now. But as Slim didn't have any answers, he could do nothing but continue to wait, and hold on to that tiny speck of hope.

"Holding up, all right, Slim?" Jonesy asked, the break in the silence making Slim jump.

"Sure, Jonesy," Slim answered, the half-truth coming out more on the side of the lie. There was no position that he could shift into that would provide relief, but his back and legs continued to move as if they didn't believe what his mind already knew. The blood had slowed, thanks to Jess' proper placement of the towel against the bullet hole, but the pain had intensified, his flesh responding in angry outbursts that the piece of lead was still invading his body.

The renewed thought of his partner brought another stab of worry. Where was Jess? It was past sunset, made obvious as the already dark room had turned pitch black. Surely if his escape had been successful, the darkness would do well to continue to hide him. Yet, the night held its own enemies. Slim had been listening to the pattern on the roof, the tones changing from a softer note to a harder beat, as the rain became ice. It would only worsen as the darkest hours would set in, the snow and ice becoming a dangerous mix for a man on foot.

Eyes widening, Slim turned his gaze upon the door as the lock was turned, his sense of alarm ratcheting upward. The door swung open and Cross stepped inside, the glow of a lantern in his hand nearly reaching every corner of the small room. Taking only short breaths, Slim watched his every move, the air soon becoming stuck at its intake when he came to a stop in front of him. Cross already knew. Through each of his steps, he didn't take a single glance at the empty rod in the room. Cross had already known Jess was gone before he had unlocked the door. Did that also mean that he knew what had happened to Jess after his escape?

Slim tried not to let his emotions show, but a muscle still jumped in his jaw as he stared up at Cross. He looked smug, the suit and tie only adding to his conceited appearance. Slim had stared hard at the man before, but now, in the lantern light, his features seemed illuminated, but also hardened. The man was in his forties, his yellowed hair taking on a different hue at the temples as brushstrokes of gray met the shaving line of his bare cheeks. His hands were smooth, without a single callous, showing the evidence clearly that he never did the dirty work. Cross claimed that he wanted the Sherman ranch, yet the reason why was still unknown, but perhaps for the first time in really looking at the man, Slim knew he didn't want the land to work it. He was no rancher, and the half-breeds and Rex were no ranch hands. He might be ruthless in his commands, but he'd be nothing in a real fight.

"Your scrutiny is appalling, Sherman," Cross shook his head. "But nevertheless, it's to be expected. See what you need to? Or will I have to show you the scar on my arm, too?"

"I've seen enough," Slim answered, setting his jaw tight. "Enough to know that you're not man enough to fight for what you want."

"Interesting that you'd bring that up when you have a bullet stuck in your shoulder," Cross said with a slight shake of his head. "And although I could argue with you about my abilities, I have something else on my mind."

"And that is," Slim prompted after Cross chose to revel in prolonging his thoughts for too long.

"You know that feeling you get inside when something you hope for just dissipates into thin air?" Cross asked, flipping his hand upward like he was swatting at a fly. "Well, you're about to get a double dose of it."

"What are you talking about?" Slim asked, not wanting to know, but needing to know.

"I'm sure you heard part of it," Cross stuck a thumb toward the right wall. "The posse that you must have envisioned swooping in to save your sorry hides is long gone. They swooped all right, back to Laramie as fast as their mounts could take them, at least those who could still ride did. Those that were left behind, well, they're still lying in the mud down there."

Slim tried not to shudder, but it was nearly impossible. Mort would have been leading the posse, a group of men that would have been made up of his friends and neighbors. And some of them wouldn't be riding home. Slim couldn't know the numbers or the complete list of names, but there was one he knew for certain. Sheriff Mort Cory. He wouldn't have fled, which meant he was one that had dropped and bled. Although that was enough of a weight to add to Slim's already slumped shoulders, Cross had referenced the shattering of hope in pairs. The posse was only the first. There was still one more. It had to be. It couldn't be. But it was. Jess.

"Oh, and I mustn't forget Harper," the line on Cross' mouth drew straight, his dark eyes boring into Slim's, waiting to see him flinch. "He's at the bottom of a cliff."

"You're lying," Slim said, yet as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew it wasn't the truth. There had been a certain glower dancing on Cross' face when he had taunted Slim with Andy's death, something that Slim would have normally picked up on had the pain in his heart not been in control, but that same expression now didn't exist. Slim attempted a deep breath, but it came in shakily, watching as Cross' steps took him to the door. He wasn't lying.

Jess was at the bottom of a cliff.

…

Jess should have been at the bottom of the cliff, but somewhere between his releasing point and inevitable death was a ledge, where at one time two trees had attempted long odds at survival. The rocky ground eventually won, the remnants of the trees now only dark brown wooden poles with a few weak arms jutting out in various directions, but it was one of these outstretched limbs that brought temporary aid. Jess' right side hit the limb, the branch breaking on impact, but it was enough force against a falling object to slow Jess' plummet, just enough for the ledge to be obtainable. Even if was only by his hands.

Jess' body suspended in air as his hands barely clung onto the short outcropping of rocks. Already scraped, damaged and bloody from the battle with the rawhide and previous grip on the cliff side, there was little strength left in them to keep him held in place for long. If he could pull himself upward, Jess knew he had a chance, but what could he do perched on a ledge with no way back up and only one way down? He looked up at the trees, their strange silhouettes an image of their death, but for him they had resulted in life. But for how long? What lay below him still beckoned, and something above him seemed to prove that he was still destined to reach it.

Darkness was closing in, the shadows of the cliff muting out whatever dim light remained in the sky, but Jess wouldn't have needed a lantern beside him to know what was coming. His face felt it first, the rain gently dripping on his cheeks had suddenly hardened, the dropping temperatures not only freezing the falling liquid, but anything that it would touch. Feeling his palm start to slide as the ice increased, Jess quickly looked down below him, searching for even the smallest form of support. But there was nothing. Jess took a deep breath, snowflakes now mingling with the pellets, and he dropped his lashes as his fingers began to slip. The tree, the ledge, and his own tenacity had saved him before. Something else would have to save him now.

Jess had known all along what lived at the bottom of the cliff. He had heard its roar from each perching point and now he was about to meet it. Even in the blackest night, water could still reflect the sky, and Jess' eyes opened, seeing the swirling beast at flood level churning as if powered by a violent storm, made worse by the day after day of rainfall and snowmelt. Men often said at death they'd be six-feet under, but the depth of water raging out of control was extensively deeper. A watery grave might be the only hole Jess would ever get dropped into.

Jess hit, the air he drew in before his mouth went under not enough to fully fill his lungs, his body quickly screaming for more as the water wrapped around his waist like solid arms, jerking him farther down with each roll. Unable to fight the current, Jess' body rushed with the volume, his swimming skills still too new to properly help him, no matter how hard Jess pumped his arms. There was no sense of direction, up, down, sideways, all felt the same. An eerie silence surrounded him, and for a fleeting moment, Jess thought that he was entering his eternity, but there was no peace to go with it, only more torment.

Without realizing he was so close to the surface, Jess' head suddenly found freedom, the air pouring into his flaming lungs as fast as he was being led downstream. There was little he could do to remain at the edge, the torrent bobbing him up and down as if he were a worthless piece of driftwood, swallowing nearly as much water as he did air. Already his stomach wanted to retch out what had entered, his lungs protesting with similar force, he coughed, sputtered and inhaled whenever his mouth escaped the power that continuously clawed at him underneath.

Breaking the surface once more, Jess rapidly blinked his eyes to remove the droplets from his lashes, only to have them widen as something big and black loomed over the top of him. Air should have been all that he wanted, yet Jess suddenly had to do the exact opposite to live and he dove back under, desperately trying to avoid crashing into the rock wall that the current was shoving him against. Jess' leg brushed against the stony bank, not hard enough to crush, but enough to deflect, and he was suddenly thrust into the middle of the river, fearful that he was only headed for another piece of the water's doom. Yet, it was in this part of the frenzied rush where there was the most safety, for the rocks that meant certain death were now out of reach.

The struggle between air and water continued to beat upon Jess, his body growing weaker with each push forward, the fight within beginning to diminish. As a deep breath became nothing more than a slight inhale, Jess didn't think another could possibly follow when something tapped him on the shoulder. His hands scrambled to touch the solid form, but then as the water sloshed him quickly down and back out, it was gone. He reached out with both arms blindly searching, and then it slapped him again, this time hard on the back and Jess twisted his torso, the object now securely under his stomach. He gasped, the air pouring into his starving lungs, but the exhaustion poured inside even deeper. Jess' head dropped, his cheek loosely hugging his strangely shaped support, and then there was nothing more.

The first part of awakening was his hearing, the sound of the swollen river lapping against the stone walls at a constant roar, but nowhere near as deafening as when he was part of its hectic flow. Lying on his stomach, Jess was wet and cold, racked with uncontrollable shivers, the rattling of his teeth adding to the din around him. But there was more than just nature and Jess producing it. He heard a voice, a familiar voice, but although Jess' mind retained a certain level of fog, he knew it wasn't that of his enemy. But since the rush of relief was continuously absent, the familiarity wasn't that of a friend either.

"Dad-gum," Jess groaned, the heightened need to rise bringing him to his knees, only to have them collapse underneath him again. Not bested, Jess attempted another method, pushing his hands against the ground, but his trembling arms couldn't support his weight and he dropped back to the ground with a burst of air escaping through his clenched teeth.

"I wouldn't do that, Son," the voice, a mixture of groggy and gravel, reached out to him, and Jess shook his head, water flying from the tips of his hair to the thin layer of snow around him.

"Who…" Jess began, pausing for a hacking cough as his lungs refused to work without dumping another portion of the river back out of him. "…are you?"

"Don't you remember me, Boy?" Shuffled footsteps approached and Jess' hand involuntarily went to his hip, even though the gun had long ago been removed. "It's been almost a year, but I didn't think anyone would forget a partner."

"A partner?" Jess asked, still unable to place the pieces together, whether it was from being waterlogged, numb, or something entirely different.

"Well, kinda," the man chuckled, the sound triggering deeper into Jess' memory. "I shoulda known never to get paired up with a fella with an honest face."

"Judge?" Jess wiped his eyes in disbelief, turning his head upward as the scruffily bearded face bent over him. "Judge Barnaby Cade?"

"That's him, er, me," Barnaby thrust his hand into Jess' and pumped up and down. "I didn't figger meetin' you a'gin, and if I did, it wouldn't'a been from fishin' you outta no overfilled crick."

"You pulled me out?" Jess asked, turning his head toward the river, churning onward with its menacing rolls.

"I did," Cade nodded, squeezing the muscle on his upper arm. "Bet you didn't think there was that much strength in these old bones, didja? You almost sailed right on by. I kept poundin' on you with a stick, but then you finally caught on."

"I'm mighty obliged, Judge," Jess smiled, the strength returning enough that he was able to pull himself into a seated position.

"What're you doin' out here, Sonny?" Cade asked, his face shaped into a contorted frown as he raised a finger to point at the water. "Surely you're not after me a'gin? 'Cause if you are, I just might push you right back in."

"No," Jess shook his head, adding another necessary cough to rattle his chest. "I'm after someone much worse. That is, I will be if I can get back up where I fell from."

"You fell?" Cade let out a crackled guffaw. "How does somebody like you always got an angel lookin' over your shoulder?"

"Well, if you reckon I got an angel, then you better count yourself as being one that wears wings. Twice," Jess smiled as he held up two fingers, and then seeing that the puzzled expression on the Judge's face had deepened, he added, "Choctaw, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Cade said, bobbing his head as the salt-and-pepper patches on his cheeks couldn't quite hide the pink tint that formed there. "Never mind about no wings, though. I'm far from the angelic type, a lot closer to the…well, you can figger that out. So you're after someone worse than me, huh? Anyone I know?"

"Dunno," Jess answered, the returned image in his mind of the suited outlaw making his hands ball into fists. "Calls himself C.C.; short for Carlyle Cross."

"Nope, never heard of him," Cade wagged his head back and forth. "Course I've been kinda outta the loop for awhile now. You, uh, after him for money?"

"No," the bark returned to Jess' voice with a sharp throb, the desire to fill his hands with Cross and his cohorts bringing him all the way to his feet. It was the middle of the night, snowing, and he didn't have a single sense of direction, but Jess knew he needed to get back in the place of battle. He hadn't dropped out of the sky to ride the rapids only to take it easy when he got out.

"Too bad," Cade shrugged, starting to turn back toward his campfire. "Mighta struck up our old partnership again iffen you was."

"Mind if I dry up a bit by your fire?" Jess asked, his strides taking him closer to the inviting flames.

"Well, Son," Cade pulled a bottle out of his coat pocket and took a long swig. "You can have your warmth at the fire, but I'll take mine with this. Think I'll nestle down for a bit. Don't wake me if I snore. I'm a bear before my morning cup of whiskey."

Jess sat down on a log, the heat of the fire doing more than just offering him a dryer shirt. He had aches in too many places to count, the campfire snapping and sparking at the wood he offered it creating a soothing balm to the places that hurt the most. Jess hated to admit the feeling, but it also made him sleepy. But when he thought of Slim, Jonesy and Andy, still stuck in that shack, tied to iron rods that didn't provide any comfort, Jess would never close his eyes. Turning his back to the flame, Jess flicked his eyes at the Judge's bedroll, his snore enough to create an echo. One open-mouthed snort would have been enough, but Jess had to hear them all in doubles.

Standing up, Jess took a few steps in the Judge's direction, tempted to wrestle with the bear and give him a kick awake, but before he swung his foot backward, in the flickering firelight, Jess saw another bottle. He knelt down and picked up the flask, its contents full to the brim. He gripped it tight, wanting it, but not in the way of passing it through his lips, but for Slim. Another snore ripped through Cade's throat and Jess found a smile, fitting the whiskey into his boot, the cork being the only portion that stuck out of its rim. Judge Barnaby Cade did owe him a bottle, since Jess had paid for every piece of equipment, liquid included, in their search for the robber's loaded stash.

"I wonder what else he's got I could use," Jess spoke softly, starting to sift through the Judge's meager camp. It was too bad Cade only used a shotgun, as it would have felt nice to have a loaded gun at his hip again, but Jess knew he could never wrangle the man's only weapon out of his grasp. As it was, Cade was lying with one arm wrapped around the iron.

Moving quietly, Jess stuck his hand inside of a saddlebag, wary at first, since he knew the Judge often left surprises for unsuspecting intruders, but other than hardtack that felt more like rocks than something edible, it appeared to be empty. But as he was about to give up, Jess touched something cold. Sticking it in his clasp, Jess pulled out his clenched fist and opened his palm. A pocketknife. This he could definitely use. A weapon, although small, but still very sharp, and one that could easily be concealed. Jess pushed the knife deep in his pocket, pausing as a snort turned to a grunt, but Cade only smacked his lips before arousing in another chorus of his slumber.

Needing the heat to be against his bones once more, Jess stepped back toward the fire, the intense chill beginning to seep away the longer he stayed by its flame, but only from his outer core. Nothing could warm his heart. He was someplace beyond being angry, having a deep hunger for revenge that could only be satisfied when a particular man was in his clutch. He stayed this way, the emotions at a constant churn, only multiplying as the sun, still covered by a layer of gray, rose enough in the east to lighten his surroundings.

The Judge was still snoring, although not as obnoxiously, and Jess stepped away from the campsite to feed Cade's horse. Two in the saddle would be slow going, but it would still be better than traveling back to the shack on foot. That is, if they could ever get ready to leave. After his night of drinking, Cade could sleep until noon. Jess didn't have that time, but he also couldn't take off on the Judge's horse and leave the old man afoot. The bottle and knife were one thing, horse stealing was something else altogether. Jess gave the horse a pat, his aim to face the bear head on, but Jess' feet suddenly slid to a stop in the slush and he crouched low behind a rock. Bull or Snake, it didn't matter which, but one of the half-breed's had just entered camp.

Jess kept his breath held as the large man silently stepped up to the Judge. With his rifle, he tapped Cade three times on the leg, the last coming harder to finally arouse the older man. He groaned, growled, and mumbled words that were inaudible to those that could hear him, but he found his feet, and Cade's head bent backward as he looked up into the face that loomed above him.

"That you, Chawwwwkie?" Cade elongated the name, finishing with a hiccup, his vision somewhere near a blur, unable to focus on the face in front of him, but seeing enough to bring his shotgun up a notch.

"No, Judge," Jess whispered, staying hidden, but unable to stop the fear from pounding in his temples that Cade was no match for the opposition, even if he was equally armed.

"Wait," Cade shook his head, the shotgun rising higher, his eyes blinking away the haze the same moment a dawning realization flashed through his mind. "Choctaw's dead."

It was about to happen. He could have slipped away, disappearing into the rocks while the half-breed did the unthinkable. He could have done nothing, only focusing on saving his own skin. But he didn't, because Jess wasn't that kind of man.

"No, Judge!" Jess leapt forward, crashing into Cade's back, sending both the old man and the shotgun spiraling to the ground. There was no way that he could reach it to defend himself, so Jess turned slowly, facing whatever wrath was to come head on.

"You," the half-breed grunted, the rifle aligned at the same level as Jess' head.

"Go ahead," Jess challenged, his feet firmly planted to the ground, even though what was underneath him was soft and slippery.

A fist was raised up high, a gasp emitted from a sotted mouth, and Jess felt the blow crash into his jaw. He staggered, unwilling to go down, and as Jess regained his stance, he expected a bullet to take the place of the fist. If one did come, Jess would never know it. With a rapid twirl, the butt of the rifle was in the air, swinging downward it met the back of his head and Jess landed onto the ground with a thud, lost in his own world of darkness.

And on the ground, something as red as crimson stained the whiteness of the snow.

:.:.:

_As I left Jess falling from the cliff, I had water in mind as his landing point, but I hesitated at how he would get there. And then I read through a PM sent to me by Nakoosay, and I chose two of her ideas in how to save Jess. The tree limb and the ledge. Thank you, Nakoosay. You didn't think you were helping me, but you did so in a big way._

_Kappa Girl, thank you for the vote of confidence in saying that I could fulfill your request! From the moment I read your suggestion, I was intrigued, and I wanted to accept the challenge, but I had to do it right. I watched "The Lawbreakers" twice this week, (it's a good thing it's one of my favorite episodes!) to try to capture the Judge's character. I hope I did him justice. Thank you for this idea, as I feel it adds a different twist to this story._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Judge Barnaby Cade stared in wide-eyed shock as Jess' body hit the ground. His focus wasn't without fuzz, but even if he would have been as blind drunk as the night before, it still would have been obvious that the man who had done the striking was pure evil. His shotgun was out of his reach, what with the way Jess had barreled into him, but since the Indian looking fellow handled his rifle like he meant to use it, Cade easily deduced that Jess had saved his life. Harper had some of those angel wings himself. And by the way Cade felt inside, maybe Jess hadn't been so far off about him wearing a partially tarnished pair.

"What're…" Cade hiccupped, inching backward as the brutish man stomped in his direction, expecting a similar treatment to what Jess had received. "What're you gonna do with me?" Cade spoke with enough slurred speech that it was obvious that he had happily coddled a bottle in the night. He opened his mouth again, this time to declare his long list of accolades in the outlaw business to prove that he wasn't among the innocent, but promptly closed it as the towering man picked up the shotgun.

"Nothing," the terse voice replied, except in the Judge's eyes, his nothing turned into something. The half-breed carried the shotgun to the closest rock, and with a forceful thrust, smashed the weapon until pieces of the iron dropped to the slushy ground.

"Of all the…" Cade began, but by the glaring look that flashed his way, he thought it best to shut up.

The Judge kept his low position, his eyes following the man as he returned to Jess' side, and with one easy motion, hoisted Jess up and over his shoulder. Strong, was a label that Cade tacked onto the half-breed who was starting to walk silently away, but if there would be another, it would be coldblooded, and maybe added later on, killer. There was a trail of blood following the man's steps, belonging to Jess. The blow to Harper's head had broken the skin, the drips meaning that he was still alive, but how long before Strong'n'Coldblooded permanently changed that? Cade craned his head, waiting until the tall man disappeared, and then he scrambled to his feet.

"Of all the danged brutes," Cade mumbled as he gathered his meager belongings. "Busting an old man's shotgun, busting a young man's head. Why I oughta get on his trail and show him what for."

But Judge Barnaby Cade didn't hold the fire of a young man anymore. Oh, there was still fire all right, especially when he poured the liquid kind down his throat, but where it counted the most, it was only part of a memory of his younger self. Yet, Cade hadn't felt this angry in years, and he couldn't attribute his feelings because one of his peers smashed his shotgun into bits. For Jess? If there had been someone there to listen to him, the Judge could have argued on why he should even care about Jess Harper anyway. They weren't kin, they weren't friends and topping it off, he had taken away Cade's hard-earned loot, so why did his blood come close to boiling when the half-breed hauled Jess away like he was a worthless carcass? Cade hadn't felt the least bit of sorrow when all of his partners from the Choctaw Johnson gang had bit the dust, so why bother with Jess?

Cade shrugged, maybe not fully knowing the answer, but fully knowing his next step. When his horse was readied, the Judge mounted, his eyes latching onto the trail of blood that Jess had made. They would be easy to trace, at least until the temperature rose enough to switch the form of precipitation, but he wouldn't be following the path. Cade had known all kinds, from the worst to the very worst, and it was easy to place this ruffian, or at least the man he worked for, high on the list, which made his decision quite clear. Jess' help wouldn't be coming from a crusty, old outlaw, but from someone that could do the job much better. He nudged his horse forward, searching for a trail to Laramie.

Cade had never been good at directions, and he might have taken the wrong path if the Judge hadn't stumbled upon the blood soaked trail of the posse. He studied the ground, taking note of the various marks and then he nudged his horse to follow the retreating tracks. Looking up into the gray sky that now was warm enough to only produce rain, he couldn't gauge the time, only that it wasn't yet noon, and that was mostly because his middle hadn't started rumbling for his afternoon swig of whiskey.

Another mile down the trail, Cade pulled his horse to an abrupt stop, as two men with two horses were suddenly in his way. Trusting no one, Cade squinted into the distance, only pushing his mount forward once more when one of the men suddenly dropped to the ground. If the man had dark hair and a chiseled jaw, Cade would have hurried, but as it wasn't a familiar face, he kept his pace slow. When a white haired man raised a gun in his direction, Cade's hands went slowly up, his head starting to shake back and forth.

"You ain't got no quarrel with me," Cade's voice had lost its drunken quiver, holding his normal edge of gravel. "'Sides, I ain't even got a weapon."

"It's all right, Mose," Mort said, trying to pull his feet back underneath him. When he had fallen, Mort had clearly heard the rider approach, but knew in one glance that it wasn't an enemy approaching. At least, he didn't quite think Judge Barnaby Cade was that kind of trouble. "Judge, I never would've expected to find you out here."

"I'm full of surprises," Cade slid out of his saddle and walked with somewhat wobbly steps to Mort's side. "Can I give you a hand?"

"Thanks," Mort nodded as Cade's hands went under his arms to lift him up, "we both could use one about now."

"Imagine me, helpin' a danged lawman," Cade grunted, shaking his head back and forth, Mort's badge like a blazing emblem on his chest. "That boy out there with the fast gun and honest face sure rubs off on a fella. Next thing you know, I'll be wearin' one'a them tin stars."

"What boy?" Mort questioned quickly, as the handkerchief on his arm was retied. The Judge's description fit snugly onto Jess.

"Oh, that," Cade waved his hand in the air, "what's his name again? He's just 'Son' to me. You know, that fella that runs around at the relay station near Laramie, but pretends to be someone he ain't to catch crooks like me."

"Jess Harper?"

"Sure," Cade nodded, a smile creeping up his scraggly cheeks. "That's him."

"You saw Jess?" Mort continued to question, wishing the Judge would give him a more complete reply.

"Of course I done seen him," Cade waved his arm toward the east, although the wild, frothing river where he'd pulled Jess out of was to their north. "I saved his life."

"Then Jess is alive," a smile spread across Mort's face as he turned to look toward Cade's point, the next string of singular questions springing from his mouth in rapid fashion. "Where? How? When?"

"Someplace thattaway, t'weren't easy, last night, but not anymore," Cade dropped his head, that mysterious anger still at work in his middle, making a deep frown settle across his mouth. "Then some Indian-like-delinquent carried him off. Why do you think I'm helpin' you anyway? Gotta get Jess outta this mess."

"Thanks, Judge," Mort's smile grew, the grin shared with Mose as the older man's eyes were finally lit up. "We'll help Jess all right, but not until Mose and I can get patched up some."

"Where're you boys headed?" Cade asked, raising eyebrows on both Mose and Mort's faces, since both "boys" weren't anywhere near being youthful ages.

"The Sherman ranch," Mort answered, while Mose added his own reply with a nod of his head.

"Well," Cade rubbed his palm over his scruffy cheek, "I reckon I might as well finish the good deed I started out on. I just might make the title of a law abiding citizen yet. Come on, boys, let's get you to Sherman's."

…

"Jess!" Andy exclaimed when the shack's door was shoved open and Jess' body was tossed onto the ground. A second cry was silenced as Andy looked up into the dark, dangerous eyes of one of the half-breeds, the bear-like growl coming from his throat making Andy's mouth clamp shut. Even when the door was reclosed and the sound of the lock clicked loudly in his ears, Andy didn't dare call out in a loud tone, his mouth barely forming the name before emitting a whispered, "Jess?"

The groan came first, rippling through Jess' chest as he then made an attempt to rise. His hands supported his weight as Jess came off of the ground only far enough to shake his head, the pain shooting down his neck and into his shoulders crashing him back into the soil. Never to be easily defeated, Jess tried again, rolling over to his back he placed a palm against his forehead and then slowly inched upward, the faces of Slim, Jonesy and Andy dimming in and out between clarity and something resembling a watery blur. Taking a deep breath, Jess closed his eyes and then reopened them, keeping himself seated as he wasn't ready to test the use of his legs yet.

"You in there, Pard?" Slim asked, receiving another slight shake of Jess' head in response.

"He looks like someone clubbed him a good one," Jonesy frowned, watching as Jess lowered his hand to his thigh as the room had finally stopped swirling. "Coming around more, are you?"

"I reckon," Jess heaved a loud sigh through his partially open lips as he pulled himself to his knees. He stayed this way for a full minute before putting his trust in his legs and when he finally rose, they nearly betrayed him. Jess swayed violently, and if he hadn't been within an arm's reach of the iron rod that had been his support, he would have gone back down.

"Are you hurt bad, Jess?" Andy asked, his face pinched with pain as if he was enduring every ounce of what Jess was feeling.

"No, not that bad. It does hurt," Jess reached a hand to the back of his head. "Ow! Dad-gum. Well, it hurts more when I touch it, so I reckon I just won't."

"What happened to you, Jess?" Andy asked, his eyes searching over Jess' entire body for another injury other than on his head. There was only the one spot of blood, but everywhere else, from his head on down, looked ravaged.

"Don't really wanna retell it, Andy," Jess answered, trying to take his first step. "Let's just say I took a long drop down into a swollen river and 'cause I'm so sour tasting, it spit me back out. But something good did come outta it."

"What's that?" Slim asked, his eyes showing his concern that Jess wasn't going to be able to stay on his feet as he removed his hand from the rod.

"I met an old friend out there, which means I come bearing gifts," Jess' mouth broke into a smile as he wasn't only successful with taking one steady step, but two. As the others exchanged confused glances, Jess slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the Judge's knife, and then after bouncing it once in his palm, he lifted his foot, removing the bottle of whiskey from its position in his boot.

"Now the knife I have reason to grin about," Jonesy started to laugh, "but I never thought I'd ever feel so giddy over a bottle of rye."

"Medicinal purposes," Slim winced, immediately knowing who would receive the first dose.

"I'll have you all free in a coupla seconds," Jess said, stepping first to Slim, he took the knife and sliced through the rawhide, and then released Jonesy, his stride taking him quickly to bend behind Andy.

"How come they didn't tie you up, Jess?" Andy asked when Jess broke the binds around his wrists.

"Probably didn't think it necessary," Jess helped Andy to his feet and then gave the boy a tight squeeze around his shoulders. "I was going in and out as I was approaching the shack and before I was tossed in, I heard Cross say they were gonna move us somewhere before noon."

"I hope it's someplace without a rod for a cushion," Jonesy pressed his hands into his back. "I think my sacroiliac is thoroughly disgusted. But don't mind me, Slim, how're you fairing?"

"Not too good, Jonesy," Slim's mouth opened to take in a short gasp as he tried to rise to his feet.

"No, stay seated, Pard," Jess reached out and put both hands on Slim's shoulders, easing him back to the ground. "We gotta get to that bullet. Jonesy?"

"You're gonna have to do it, Jess," Jonesy held out his hands, his fingers and palms visibly shaking. "They're no good after being tied up all this time."

"All right," Jess nodded, keeping the knife secured in his palm, but handing Jonesy the bottle. "You take care of the medicine."

"Slim?" Andy whispered tentatively, as the reason that Slim was wearing a bullet crashed down on top of his head again.

"It's going to be all right, Andy," Slim promised as he began to unbutton his shirt. When he came to the last, he pulled the shirttails out of his beltline, groaning as Jess took the fabric from his hands and gingerly removed the shirt from Slim's body. "The undershirt is going to be interesting, though."

"Might just wanna cut it off," Jonesy suggested, pointing to the top of the pink shirt that hugged Slim's frame. "You can slice it straight down and then use it for bandaging afterward."

"Hold still, Slim," Jess said, taking the knife's tip to the "V" at the top of Slim's undershirt. "Don't wanna give you another scar to keep."

"Yeah," Slim winced as Jess cut through the fabric, the tugging against his wound sending a sharp pain throughout his chest, down his arm and a deep throb into his back, "because you and I don't have enough already."

"That's right," Jess gave Slim a quick smile. "And I thought we were made of steel."

"We are," Slim returned Jess' smile, his eyes then flicking up to Andy to share the same expression with his little brother.

"All right, Jonesy, douse the knife," Jess handed the sharp blade upward, keeping his hand opened for its return, "I wish I could heat it up first, but the whiskey's all we got."

"It'll be fine, Jess," Slim nodded, his jaw clenching tight as he prepared for what was to come. "Just get it done."

Nothing could properly prepare a man for inserting a knife into another man's flesh. Maybe a physician had no qualms, but a doctor was trained, Jess was not. He was experienced, as Jess had done such a duty before, but not enough times to not pause first, to lick his bottom lip, to take a shaky breath, and to drop his eyelids slowly. As Jess raised his lashes, his blue eyes collided with Slim's, the trust shining from one to the other. Jess placed one hand on the back of Slim's shoulder, and with the other, he stuck the knife inside.

Slim's head went backward, resting against the rod as the blade touched his flesh. His whole body tensed, the muscles on his arms bulging as if he were straining to lift a heavy object. Taking a deep breath, Slim's chest rose with the air, his already trim stomach flattening as his entire torso hardened as the knife sliced the damaged skin. The wound and surrounding tissue felt like fire, the red of the skin and the stain of the blood attesting to this fact, but the rest of Slim's exposed flesh was white, icy and dotted with goosebumps. The cold, shock and the pain were wreaking their havoc. And then Jess had to probe deeper, and soon it wasn't only Slim's bare skin that reacted. The shiver began at his back, quickly coursing over his entire body as perspiration dotted his face, sending rivulets down his cheeks as adrenaline flooded his body.

"Hang on, Slim," Jess said, his jaw set just as tightly as Slim's as he felt the blade begin to move the bullet. "I almost…" the sound of Slim's agony as it poured through his lips, not in a loud cry that would have rose to meet the caliber of his pain, but in a soft, tortured wheeze, sent a hard throb right into Jess' core. It intensified, and Jess knew it wouldn't stop until the bullet was out, and it was coming. Closer, closer. Now. "Got it."

The air rushed out of Slim's mouth as the bullet exited, his conscious level taking a dive as dark spots danced before his eyes, but he wouldn't allow himself to be pulled all of the way under. He closed his eyes, slowly taking deep breaths, feeling the blood flow freely down his front. Slim's lashes remained lowered as a cloth blotted the wound, but then they were flung wide open as a cold, yet fiery liquid poured over his shoulder.

"Sorry, Slim. Medicinal purposes are on the outside," Jonesy brought the bottle up to Slim's lips, "now for the inside. Take a good swallow now, good boy, one more. There you go. Your turn, Jess."

"Huh?" Jess asked, staring at Jonesy as he stood in front of him with the bottle in his hands. He certainly would take a drink, but somehow he didn't think that was what Jonesy was offering.

"Turn around," Jonesy motioned with his finger.

"Oh, no," Jess shook his head, "you ain't gonna pour that stuff over my head, it'll be worse than liniment. Jonesy!" But Jess could protest no further, for Andy placed his hands on Jess' arms and turned Jess' body so that his back faced Jonesy, and the older man was quick to do the dousing. "Dad-gum, that stings!"

"See, that wasn't so bad," Jonesy parted Jess' hair to better view the gash. "Could use a bit more, right…"

"Nothing doing," Jess took an abrupt step away from Jonesy.

"Here," Jonesy handed Jess the bottle with a twinkle in his eye. "Take your swig. But don't overdo it."

"That's better," Jess poured a lengthy dose down his throat and then capped the bottle tight, replacing it back inside of his boot.

"I'll get Slim's undershirt ripped up for bandaging," Jonesy held up Slim's pink shirt, and beginning with the line where Jess had cut, tore it into several pieces and then handed the makeshift bandages to Jess.

"You said you met up with a friend," Slim said, pausing for a sigh, "who?"

"Judge Barnaby Cade," Jess answered, his head turning toward the wall, wondering what had become of the old codger. "I dunno what happened to him, the half-breed coulda given him the same treatment as me, but you never know, maybe him being out there will continue to be in our favor. You ready for this, Slim?"

"Yeah," Slim said, his jaw tightening once more as Jess took the pink bandages from Jonesy's hand.

"How's it feel, Slim?" Jess asked, wrapping the strips of Slim's undershirt under his armpit and over his shoulder, the pulsating wound right in its center. "Too tight?"

"No," Slim grimaced, raising his right arm as he flexed his fist. "It already feels better. Thanks Jess. If you ever get tired of being a cowboy, you can always try doctoring."

"No chance, Slim," Jess laughed lightly as he helped get Slim back inside of his thoroughly stained, cream shirt.

"You know," Jonesy said, tapping his fingers on his jaw, "I've been thinking some about that Cross fellow. Now, he's a sidewinder all right, and for the most part, I can't quite figure him out, but one thing we do know, he's not gonna stop until he gets what he wants. The ranch. Yet, how's he gonna get it?"

"Probably like he's already been trying," Slim winced, moving his fingers toward the edge of his wound, "but whatever's next will be worse."

"True," Jonesy slowly nodded, "but that's not gonna get the ranch in his hands. No matter what he does to us, he can't exactly set up shop at the ranch and announce that Slim Sherman gave it to him for a birthday present. No, he's gotta have something more solid than that. Oh, and another thing, he can't just waltz into the bank with a handwritten note from you either, Slim, that'd raise too many eyebrows. No, if he's gonna get what he wants, he's gonna have to take one of us outta here."

"You're probably right, Jonesy," Slim answered slowly, looking across to Jess, standing still, with the exception of his fists opening and closing. "But which one?"

"Not you, that's for sure, what with that wound like a beacon on your front," Jonesy shook his head and then used his thumb to point at Jess. "And not Jess, either, he'd kick up too much of a fuss. The deed to the ranch might have three names on it, but the only one he really needs is Andy. Remember how he told us that he wasn't gonna kill someone he could still use?"

"Well, if that's true," Jess said, his words, even though spoken softly, still held a fiery tone, "then how come they haven't killed us yet? That half-breed was shooting to kill before I dropped off the cliff. He coulda killed me again when he found me later at the bottom, but all he did was bash my skull in some and bring me back here."

"Leverage," Jonesy replied, crossing his arms over his chest, "my guess is that when you ran off, the orders were for you to be killed so you couldn't complete your escape. But when you were found alive, you were kept that way for a purpose. If Andy's gonna be used to change the deed, then Cross needs as many victims here to threaten as he can, or at leastwise have Slim be pushed to such a limit that he tells Andy to go with Cross to get it done. He's not stupid, Cross knows that our weakness is each other's welfare."

"What do you think, Jess?" Slim asked, watching Jess' features as he processed everything Jonesy had just said.

"He could be right," Jess answered with a slight shake of his head, "but if that's what Cross has planned, what's he gonna do with Andy when the deed's been changed? Kill him or keep him?"

"Don't know, but I…" Slim began but paused when Andy's eyes widened and a small gasp came from his mouth. "What's the matter Andy?"

"Something Cross said to me when he was teaching me to shoot," Andy couldn't hide his sudden trembling.

"What's that?" Jonesy asked, putting an arm around Andy's shoulder, but the quivering didn't pause with the added security.

"He asked me if I thought he'd make a good big brother," Andy put a finger in his middle. "My big brother."

"So that's his angle," Slim's mouth set into a deep frown as his mind processed his enemy's plan. "He's going to push us until we can't be pushed anymore, and then use Andy to put the ranch in his name as his new big brother. That's probably the real reason he had you shooting at me, to not just threaten, but to instill real guilt and fear, followed by a more significant threat and command to come. I could be wrong, but I have a gut feeling this is right. And since Jess heard Cross say he was planning on moving us, that could be happening soon. All right, Andy, until we have reason to believe otherwise, for him to not take you away from us, you're going to pretend to be sick."

"Sick?" Andy looked questioningly at his brother. "What kind of sick?"

"Coughing, sneezing, chills, whatever else you can throw in, as long as it's believable."

"Like that time you thought you were supposed to go to that little Cynthia Madison's house for a date," Jonesy said, patting Andy on the shoulder, "but it was only Slim that was invited, on account of how he helped her papa when his wagon got stuck in the mud last spring."

"Aw, Jonesy," Andy kicked at an imaginary stone on the ground, his cheeks filling with embarrassment's classic shade, "what'd you bring that up for?"

"So you can remember how well you were holed up in bed coughing and moaning," Jonesy chuckled, giving Andy a gentle rub across his hair, "you were mighty convincing, especially since we didn't think there was a reason for you to be trying to pull the wool over our eyes."

"Yeah," Andy nodded, adding a frown to his face, "but you figured it out when I didn't have a fever. What if Cross checks my forehead and finds out I'm faking."

"Hopefully Cross has never had need to tend to a sick boy before and he won't check," Slim said, his voice growing with assurance. "Remember you also couldn't say no to that slice of cake I brought home from the Madison's. Big brothers have certain keenness, you know, and Cross isn't your big brother. The biggest thing we can do right now is make you as unappealing to take out of here as possible."

"Then I better start practicing," Andy cleared his throat twice before turning it into a cough. "How's that? Wait," the raspy sound came to an abrupt halt as he turned his head toward the door, his face turning pale as renewed fear clutched his chest. "Someone's coming. Cross?"

"If we do this right, Andy, maybe you won't have to play sick at all. Hurry, sit back at your rods," Jess said in his lowest tone, quietly stepping toward the doorway to hear the approaching steps. It sounded only like one. This could be perfect. "We gotta make it look as if nothing's changed."

Jess dropped to the ground, mimicking his position from where he had been tossed, holding the breath in his lungs as the doorknob was turned. The first step was taken into the room and Jess slowly counted the footfalls until he knew the man was right beside him. The next step was so close that Jess felt the soil push against his cheek. That gentle touch made the angry flame inside of Jess grow from a candle light to a raging inferno. This was what he had been waiting for. He reached out for a suited leg, but it was one clad in jeans instead. Rex. It didn't matter, Jess was ready to pound his fists into any of them. With one solid jerk, Rex was on the ground, the fight exploding from both men the instant that he hit.

There was enough of an element of surprise on Rex' face to show that he hadn't expected to be taken down, but recovering quickly, his eyes narrowed into slits as he regained his feet, a fist already balled and in an aim for Jess' jaw. Jess avoided the strike, bringing his hand swiftly upward he kept the punch held in midair, his right swinging around to meet up with Rex' lip, slitting the lower portion open as Rex spun from the hit. Jess reached both hands out to grab Rex by the collar, and once firmly grasped, he started pushing the man's body toward the wall, but Rex clamped his palms together, and in an upward thrust, cracked them into Jess' jaw.

Jess was momentarily powerless as he tumbled backward, giving Rex the perfect opportunity. He leapt onto Jess, both bodies crashing to the ground, rolling to a stop as Jess' ribs met with the empty iron rod. The air rushed out of Jess' clenched teeth with a grunt, coming then with a wheeze as the fabric around his neck was pulled tight as Rex hauled him to his feet. Jess raised his arm, the sound of his fist hitting Rex' left cheek a loud smack, but its only echo was a returned jab that just missed Jess' right eye, creating a line of blood to seep from his brow.

Taking a necessary step backward, Jess slammed his fist into Rex' middle, the reaction to the blow bending Rex over, and then Jess gripped the back of his collar to more equal their heights, the punch from Jess' fist smashing Rex' back against the wall. Standing in the middle of the small room taking in deep breaths, Jess waited for Rex to recommence or declare his defeat. A smile traced up Jess' bruised face when it appeared that the white flag would be raised, but Rex was only letting a piece of possum show.

With a wild leap and a guttural noise to go with it, Jess was suddenly thrown backward, his back bouncing against the wall with such force that the entire building shook. An arm went around his neck and Jess braced his feet, but the soil was loose enough that his boots couldn't take a firm hold, making his position even weaker. The grip around his neck tightened, the needed air cut into short, rough gasps through Jess' mouth until there was nothing left to inhale. With one hand desperately trying to pull the arm away from his throat, Jess bent his other arm, his elbow at a precise aim for Rex' abdomen. With every ounce of strength put into motion, Jess jabbed him once, twice, and then the third time bringing the correct painful response that released the pressure around his neck. Jess slid his hand across Rex' arm and then with a mighty heave, tossed Rex off of his back, the man landing with a grunt on the dirt floor.

Jess had little time to brace for another blow, as Rex was quickly on his feet, a fist ready to be put in Jess' face, but Jess brought his own up first, striking Rex in the jaw. The second landed on the side of his head, putting Rex into a spiral where he'd meet a painful stop as he hit the iron rod, the sickening sound of a bone breaking coming a mere second ahead of Rex' agonized shout. It was over. Rex placed a hand over his broken arm, and with his back against the rod, he slid down until his backside hit the dirt.

"Get his gun, Jess," Slim said as he stood up, his feet taking him to Jess' side as Jess pulled the gun out of Rex' holster.

"Now things really are gonna change," Jess said, holding the pistol in his palm, the feeling of its fully loaded weight was as rewarding as if he clutched a winning hand in a poker game. "We gotta gun."

"Correction," Cross' voice suddenly appeared, making all three heads snap toward the wall. They'd forgotten about the escape hole, and Cross had just crawled through it, his weapon at an even point to Jess' heart. "You had a gun."

:.:.:

_A huge thanks goes to Mustang Sallie, pointing an idea out to me that I honestly hadn't thought about before. The deed to the Sherman ranch. Even though I kept the deed with only the most important names, I knew this was an integral part to write in. When I read her thoughts in the review, my mind started running ahead, trying to figure out how to incorporate it into what I'd already written in previous chapters and to fit it in with the one I was currently writing. I think I got some of the pieces tied together. Thank you._

_To Kappa Girl – easy wish? For Slim's shirtless scene, that came about fairly easily as he had to have the bullet removed, but it's cold, borderline winter and spring with snow and ice outside. Can I really get Jess to take his shirt off for you (and every other interested reader)? We'll see…_

_The fight between Jess and Rex was requested a few chapters ago in a PM by Nakoosay. At the time, it was too early for a big brawl, but as I was getting ideas for chapter five, the fight developed. So thank you, Nakoosay, for wanting the big fight, I hope I delivered it "big" enough for you!_

_And that takes me to WillowDryad, requesting a Jan Merlin, slimy-type character, the request being seconded by Kappa Girl. Hmm, since Jess fought with Rex, leaving the man with a broken arm, that makes Rex kind of useless. Don't you think that leaves room for a new character in chapter six?_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The gun dropped from Jess' hand, the dirt floor not able to produce a loud thud at its landing, but the significance of its sudden loss added an extra thump to his heart. They had been so close to freedom, but now it was as if they had never taken that vital step toward it at all. Except the dashed hope was in place. The heavy weight not only made each of their shoulders slump, but it felt like something had literally been cut from their flesh. In Jess, it had been cut from his hand.

Jess tried to keep the sigh of defeat locked in his chest, the ability to do so intensifying as the feeling switched to smoldering anger as Cross suspiciously eyed him. Jess watched as Cross turned his head to the empty iron rods, looking over each one of them, and then his sinister stare fell upon the three that were no longer attached to them, before once again settling upon him. As Cross inched closer to his position, Jess straightened his back and clenched his jaw, unwilling to let the outlaw sense the defeat, only the anger.

"Since everyone's binds suddenly loosened, it appears Harper did more than just sideline Rex," Cross stood in front of Jess, the separation only as far apart as his gun allowed. "You must either have some nimble fingers, or you're hiding something from me. Which is it?"

"Why don't you search me and find out?" Jess answered coolly, his gaze locked with ice to Cross' eyes, the look daring him to lay a single finger anywhere on his body. Gun or no gun, Jess was ready to flatten him, even if Cross' weapon took a piece of him at the same time.

Cross inhaled a shaky breath, hoping that no one else in the room could equate his hesitation with fear. He gave a slight glance at Rex, no longer seated, but unable to use any of his skills to give him full cooperation and aid. Harper had done this. And he could easily do the same to him. Cross started to shake his head, a battle not worth what it could potentially cost him, and then he motioned with his gun for Harper to move toward the door. It was time for them to leave anyway. Cross needed another man, now that Rex was out. Bull and Snake were more than competent, but he still needed one more, and fortunately for Cross, he knew where he could find one. He always did like to kill two birds with one stone.

"Not up to the challenge?" Jess pressed, but the pistol was jabbed into his stomach, and Jess quickly inhaled to silence a reaction to the sharp blow.

"How's that?" Cross turned his head to the side, his mouth curving upward as his intimidation dissipated. "Get moving."

"What for?" Slim asked, his stance showing that he was fully prepared to defend Jess if Cross was attempting to take him out of the shack alone.

"It's time to move on," Cross explained, his gun now waving in Slim's direction. "There have been too many nosy men lurking around. I can't keep you here any longer."

"Where're you taking us?" Slim asked, although he didn't expect a reply, it only gave him an opportunity for Andy to look his way, and Slim gave him a gesture with his hand that only a brother would understand.

"Nowhere you need to know about," Cross answered, his mouth contorting into a frown as he turned to look at Andy, suddenly bent over with a coughing fit.

"Oh, Andy," Jonesy said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to hand to the boy, "not that nasty cough again. And I don't have any of my special elixir along."

"What's the matter with you, kid?" Cross asked, taking a step toward Andy.

"His croup has flared up again," Jonesy answered before Andy could make the switch between coughing and talking. "Ever since he came down with it in January, it doesn't take much to bring it back on. You better not get too close. Sometimes his cough turns into, well, something else. I reckon you don't want your nice suit to get stained up, if you get my drift."

"Are you really sick, kid?" Cross asked, taking another awkward step closer to Andy, the skepticism showing by the narrowing of his eyes.

"I…" Andy coughed, placing his hand on his throat as if it pained him to speak, "I am sick, mister," Andy rattled his throat, and when Cross leaned forward, Andy gagged, making Cross jump backward. "Sorry. I can't keep it in sometimes."

"So I see," Cross wiped his hands on his pants before brushing each palm together three times, "just keep it to yourself then."

"I'll," Andy ran his sleeve over his nose and mouth, "I'll try."

"All right," Cross waved his gun toward Jess first, and then at Slim and Jonesy, "everyone outside."

Stepping into the daylight, which wasn't any less gray than its predecessor, all eyes turned toward the west as the half-breeds were bringing in a wagon. Their chariot to the next destination, wherever that would end up being. When the horses came to a stop in front of the shack, both men jumped out of the seat, one aiming for Jess, the other for Slim, needing to manhandle them more than their first meeting to get their wrists tied behind their backs once more. Jonesy and Andy were next, the oldest and youngest giving the half-breeds less hardship in securing their bindings. But it was with similar force that all were tossed into the wagon bed, the only difference was that they were neither blindfolded nor gagged.

"And I thought the iron rod's were uncomfortable," Jonesy grimaced as he adjusted his legs to be in a more seated position, with the side of the wagon his support.

"At least we can see where we're going," Slim whispered from his partially lying down position next to Andy. "We're headed north."

"It's getting colder," Andy shivered, trying to press his back closer to Slim's.

"That's because we're not only heading north, but we're climbing," Slim answered, uncertain if Andy's quivering was from the cold, his pretended sickness, fear, or everything wrapped together. "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll be getting into deeper snow before long."

"I wonder why they ain't concerned about leaving tracks," Jess said, reaching his fingers out to pat the knife that he'd slid into his rear pocket just after extracting the bullet from Slim's shoulder. It was easily accessible, but he would wait until the proper time before slicing through his bindings. With Cross on horseback alongside of the wagon, the two brutes up in the driver's seat and Rex, tenderly atop a horse, but still there nevertheless, the knife would stay hidden.

"Probably because the posse's gone," Slim shrugged his left shoulder, gesturing with his head toward the half-breeds, "and if they come back and follow our tracks, they'll get more of the same. They don't care how many innocent men they kill."

"You've got that part right, Sherman," Cross said with a smile, and then he nudged his horse forward in a leader's position, staying in front of the wagon until it rolled to a stop an hour later.

"Another shack?" Jonesy asked, trying to twist his head to get a better view. "I can see some boards and a roof."

"It looks more like a cabin," Jess said, his mouth still open to add to his statement, but was silenced as a door swung open, a man's frame residing in its shadows.

"C.C.," the man stepped into the open, his cowboy attire too neatly put together to believe that he did any work with cattle. More than likely, his work was with the gun on his hip. "Didn't expect to see you so soon."

"I need an extra hand," Cross shook hands with the stranger, showing the four in the back of the wagon that they were acquaintances, and anyone that would acquaint themselves with Carlyle Cross, couldn't be any better than he was. "Can I count on yours?"

"If the price is right," the man answered, his mouth set in a toothy line as he craned his head to the side to get a full view of Cross' cargo. "Big price, looks like."

"It will be," Cross replied curtly, "well?"

"Sure, sure," the man pulled his hand from Cross' clasp and gave a gesture for his boss to calm down. "You know I never turn down a fair deal."

"Good," Cross nodded, and then turning toward the wagon, he waved a hand in the newcomer's direction. "Gentlemen, this is Marlon Janzen, a friend in the business, shall I say."

"That's just plain Janz," he said, and then as Janz turned his eyes to the captives, he gave a shrug, a smile never leaving his face, "when you've got a mouthful for a handle, why bother using it all when you don't have to?"

"Bull, Snake," Cross turned to the half-breeds with a quick point, "take them inside and untie their wrists. We'll get them fed and warmed up before taking them on up to the cave. Maybe it'll get the kid feeling better. Oh, and," Cross paused with his hand slightly in the air, his eyes falling onto Jonesy. "You'll do the cooking."

"Just like at home," Jonesy shrugged as Bull shoved him toward the cabin, "only I'll use less pepper. I reckon you all are spicy enough."

"Get inside," Cross said through gritted teeth as Jonesy stepped through the front door.

All Jonesy could fix was stew, but unlike his earlier proclamation, it wasn't just like home. The potatoes had more eyes than a spider, the carrots and peas looked as if they had been dried and put away a year or two before, the meat was as tough as Jess' hide, and the salt was lumped in a ball at the bottom of the shaker. But since nothing had passed through their lips since their abduction, with the exception of a couple of swallows of the Judge's whiskey, it tasted like a feast.

"I hope that kid doesn't have something catchy," Janz sneered as Andy blew his nose into a handkerchief. "If I would've known you were bringing a sickly boy here, I might not have been so obliging."

"He'll get better after having a warm meal," Cross said, the confidence in his voice attesting that he didn't know what he was talking about. "And I don't want to hear anymore complaining from you."

"This is my place, isn't it?" Janz cast a sideways glance to Cross, the hardened glare that he received enough to silence any complaint from going forward one more inch. "All right, whatever you say. So, C.C., it looks like you've got quite the group here. Especially this one." Janz leaned across the table to put his face close to Jess. "You're Jess Harper. Yeah, I've heard about you. Fast gun, quick temper, a no good saddle tramp. You don't look so intimidating now."

"If I get you outside I would," Jess said, the rattling of gravel in his chest creating a hushed silence to fall over the room. 

"Easy now, boy," Janz held up a hand. "I was only joshing."

"I wasn't," Jess snapped.

"You know, C.C.," Janz turned toward the suited man, who leaned against the front door with his mouth curved smugly. "You sure know how to pick them."

"I didn't pick him," Cross pointed toward Slim, "he picked Harper. I would've just let him drift."

"I guess that's why I'm the rancher," Slim narrowed his eyes at Cross, "and you're not."

"Woo-eee," Janz laughed, his finger pointing somewhere in the middle between Slim and Jess "Sherman's got some spunk too. It's too bad Sherman didn't use some of it when these two first met and shot Harper instead of hiring him on. Would've been a great service to the public."

"It could still happen," Cross looked downward at the gun that poked out of his jacket, although he knew that Jess and Slim's gazes were locked onto his face. He could feel the chilling frost in the air. "Do you think if Sherman held the same gun as his brother did, doing the same type of practice shoot, only with Harper as his target, would he readily miss, or blow his head clean off?"

"Why don't you play games with this hyena instead?" Jess jutted a thumb in Janz' direction. "Would be a lot more fun to watch."

"Who are you calling names?" Janz was instantly by Jess' side, the end of his gun sticking into Jess' neck.

"Hold up, there, Janz," Cross said, taking a step closer to the man sneering into Jess' face. "Let's take a moment to cool down. Outside."

"Whatever, C.C.," Janz returned his gun to his holster, his eyes not leaving Jess' face until Cross reached out a hand and tapped him on the shoulder, giving him a point toward the door.

"Finish your meal," Cross said before his hand touched the doorknob, "and don't get any ideas. Bull and Snake are on guard just outside this door. Come on, Janz."

"I dunno about you," Jonesy said when the door banged shut, "but I think Rex was more likeable than that jasper. He looks like the type that keeps a weasel for a pet. I keep thinking that one's gonna jump out of nowhere and land in my lap."

"He's slimy all right," Slim nodded with a gentle sigh, watching as the steam still seemed to seep out of Jess' ears, "but there could be something about him in our favor."

"What's that, Slim?" Jess asked, rubbing his knuckles as the desire to pound his fist into Marlon Janzen was nearly as strong as it was for Carlyle Cross.

"Rex seemed to be Cross' right hand man, would do anything he said," Slim said, receiving agreeing nods from both Jess and Jonesy's heads, "but Janz, I don't think he shares anywhere near the same amount of loyalty."

"How would that help us?" Andy asked, scraping the last corner of his bowl with his spoon.

"He won't follow his boss to the grave, so he just might not want to dig one for us either."

"I hope you're right, Slim," Jess said gruffly, his eyes not focused on the wall, but on the two men that were somewhere on its other side, "but I'll sure volunteer to dig a deep one for all of them."

Outside, Janz followed Cross to the wagon, paused together at the front wheel. Janz had already been briefed on his business while the stew was being stirred, but he hadn't been prepared enough for Jess Harper. His open-lipped scowl was still in place, even though the infuriating man was beyond a closed door behind him. "I wish you hadn't stopped me in there."

"I know, Harper's touchy," Cross said, his own animosity for Harper giving him a constant ache in his stomach. "But I need you to stay focused for what I need you for. Your gun, not your mouth."

"Look, C.C.," Janz held out his hands, but the important one inched closer toward his gun. He knew Cross didn't wear a weapon around his hip. True, he had one tucked under his coat, but there was no swiftness in a draw from that position. As long as Janz stayed armed, he would always have an advantage, and with a man like Cross, he needed one. "You're asking me to kill a man, but I won't do it for nothing."

"You'll get paid," Cross answered sharply.

"When?"

"When I get what's coming to me," Cross pointed a finger in his chest.

"That's not good enough," Janz shook his head, his light brown hair that needed a trim flipping back and forth over his forehead with the movement, "maybe I'll just walk away right now. Let Bull and Snake do your dirty work. They seem to hang on your every word, but I don't."

"You'll stay," Cross thrust the finger at Janz, "or I'll turn Bull and Snake on you. Because you're right, they will do whatever I say. Now, do I have your undivided attention?"

Janz kept his stare locked into the hardened face of Cross, and as there wasn't a flinch to be seen, or given, he could do nothing but give in. "Yeah," Janz gave a short nod. "Which one do you want me to kill?"

"Jonesy."

…

"I don't see how I got saddled with doin' the cookin', since I done already brought you here and went and fetched the doctor," Cade stepped out of the kitchen with a hefty pot in one hand, an apron tied not quite around his middle, but closer to his chest, and a decent amount of flour sprinkled on his grizzled cheeks. "And the stuff I get to mix with! All they got 'round here is beans, biscuit fixin's, 'n' taters. Where's the good stuff?"

"Like what, Judge?" Mort asked, looking up at the Judge from where he was seated in front of the fireplace, rubbing his bandaged arm.

"Whiskey," Cade grunted, the pot teetering to its side, the beans coming close to the rim before Cade corrected his near mess. "It's all a man really needs no how. Those boys that run this place, they don't feast on anything hearty at all. Beans 'n' biscuits 'n' taters, heh. I could show them a thing or two about suppin'."

"I'm sure you could," Mort nodded, holding back a smile, "but right now, those beans, biscuits and taters sound mighty appetizing to me."

"Which means I better get back to cookin' it then," Cade shrugged his shoulders as he stepped back toward the kitchen. "Don't complain iffen it tastes kinda paltry. Without whiskey, I ain't a clue how to season this stuff."

"I'm sure it'll be just fine," Mort said, but even if the flavor was close to paper and dirt, it wasn't the food that was concerning him, but so much more. He didn't like to be sidelined with an injury when someone was violently breaking the law. Mose was already showing signs of a quick recovery, meeting the stagecoaches with spring in his step, although that could have been the result of the healthy dose of gossip being swapped whether it was the eastbound or westbound rolling through. He was out there now, and Mort kept flicking his eyes toward the window, because when a lawman got a certain feeling of dread, there was nothing he could do to ignore it. "At least I hope so."

"Huh?" Cade poked his head around the side of the fireplace, "was that a request for a cuppa coffee?"

"No," Mort quickly shook his head, but then suddenly changed his mind. "Go ahead and fill me a cup, though." Mort waited as the cup was brought to his hand, and as the Judge stood above him, his brows lifted and a smug expression on his face, Mort knew he needed to do more than just warm his hands with it. "Thanks," Mort put the cup to his lips, the swallow sending his throat into choking hysterics.

"The strength skeer you?" Cade took the cup out of Mort's hands and took a large swallow. "Tastes fine to me. 'Course, my throat's used to firewater, so this ain't nothin'. Want some milk instead? Dang whippersnapper, raised only on the soft stuff. I'll have a nice, cold glass ready with dinner, okay?"

"Thanks," Mort put a hand to his throat as his mouth, all the way down to his stomach still felt the robust sizzle. "It's not so bad being soft, you know."

Cade harrumphed, "and you a lawman. No wonder you had to let that honest feller take me in. At least he knows how to hold the hot stuff. I sure as all danged get out hope he's all right."

"Me too," Mort sighed, his thoughts trailing upward to a rocky hillside and what might have been on its other side, "me too."

"Something smells good," Mose strode through the front door, "that coffee? Good, I'll take a cup."

"Uh, Mose, you might want to," Mort paused as Cade handed the steaming cup to Mose, placing a wince on his face as Mose took the first sip, but instead of a gagging cough, Mose brought forth a smile.

"Hits the spot," Mose wiped a sleeve over his mouth. "Thanks."

"Any news out there?" Mort asked, pushing aside another cringe, although maybe he should have allowed it, only this time for a different reason.

"That was the Laramie stage that just went through," Mose pointed over his shoulder toward the door. "Brought with it some news you ain't gonna wanna here."

"What's the word, Mose?"

"Those posse members that hightailed it outta there when the shootin' got too hot," Mose explained with several hand gestures. "Alby says that they done spread it all around town that anyone joinin' back up with you is likely to get as shot up as we did, or wind up like the two we had to bury. There ain't no one willin' to go back up there."

"I kind of expected results like that," Mort sighed, standing up, needing to pace. "But until now, I was hoping I was wrong."

"I'll go back with you, Mort," Mose said, barely touching the bandage at his neck. "I ain't hurt too bad, 'sides, like I said before, all of them are like my family."

"Well, I can't just let you two boys gallivant away without someone to look after you. The law-boy here would probably end up flat on his back like he was when I found him. I reckon that halo of mine it gettin' smoother by the minute. Oh well. Maybe there'll be a shiny reward at the end of all this to make it worthwhile."

"When will we head out, Mort?" Mose asked as the sheriff had paused his step, giving his arm an extra rub.

Doctor Hanson never said as much when he dug out the bullet, but Mort knew he shouldn't be riding, but he also knew he shouldn't be idling. He was a busted up lawman, with an aging stagecoach driver and a far from reformed outlaw as his deputies, but they had heart, and perhaps, that's all that was needed anyway. "Tomorrow."

…

"The old man?" Janz rolled his eyes, his arms rising to fold over his chest. "Why him? I'd rather face Harper. He's more my style."

"You heard your orders," Cross glared at Janz. "Jonesy. He's the most dispensable of them all. Besides, he's grating on my nerves."

"All right," Janz conceded with a short nod. "When do you want it done?"

"Not immediately," Cross answered as he began to walk away, "but soon. They'll be heading for the cave shortly. When they're settled there, that should be a good enough time."

"Where're you going?" Janz asked, quickly following after Cross, reaching out to pause his steps by putting a hand on Cross' arm, only to have it jerked away.

"Home," Cross smiled, raising an arm toward the southern horizon, "well, almost, anyway. I'm going to the Sherman ranch for a day or two. Oh, and just because I'm gone doesn't mean I'm not still in charge. You, Bull and Snake all have your orders. Break them and I'll break you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Janz frowned, keeping his feet stilled as Cross rounded the corner of the house to the barn, his eyes narrowing into slits when he fully disappeared, his voice now tarnished with sarcasm. "Yes, sir."

The wagon was in use again, the same duo in the seat, the same four with retied wrists in its rear, but now Rex was gone, Janz was in his place, but even more important, Cross was out of sight. After a mile of travel, the horses began to tromp in snow, the pace slowing, both from the thicker layer that was underneath, and the steady incline. When it came to an abrupt stop, and the only thing in sight was what seemed to be an impassible trail, they were forced to walk. It was a slow and steep climb, their destination becoming obvious when the dark mouth of a cave loomed above them.

When they became a part of the indent in the mountainside, Slim's eyes took in every detail with each step, concerned that they would be swallowed in the depths of the earth with only darkness as their company, but they were stopped close enough to the mouth to still be able to see. Forced to be seated, Slim's eyes trailed above them at the jagged rocks and then across the stone walls, his gaze momentarily resting on a lantern placed on a small ledge that protruded from the side of the cave. But then Janz appeared, gaining Slim's full attention, his expression showing every inch of his callous nature, but also in his hand that rested on the butt of his gun. He wanted something. Even worse, he wanted someone.

"Come on, Jonesy," Janz said, going directly to the older man, pulling Jonesy to his feet. "You and I are going for a little walk."

"What for?" Slim asked, the sudden alarm flaring in his chest. He had been expecting Andy's removal, not Jonesy's.

"To get some fresh air, what'd you think?" Janz rolled his eyes, tugging Jonesy toward the cave's opening.

The cold air hit Jonesy in the face, but it was the reality that stung the most. The sadistic smile was enough to warn him, even if Janz didn't immediately go for his gun, yet he could feel the deadly tension that resided in the small space between them. He was about to be killed. But how could a man like him be able to stop someone like Janz, who did such vile work for his living? Jonesy didn't have much, but he did have a singular weapon. It wasn't anything that could do physical damage, nothing that could threaten, but if used right, he could do something more. Strategy. He'd already pegged the type of character that Janz was, and now he had to put it into action to save his life.

"You know," Jonesy raised his head slightly to meet Janz' gaze, "you strike me as a shrewd businessman, much more than that Cross fellow."

"How do you figure?"

"Oh," Jonesy answered, keeping his eyes at an even squint, "there's a certain flair about you. I mean, look at the way Cross dresses. He ain't likely to ever get himself dirty. He might be able to plan as pretty as you please, but isn't that all he can do? You not only can think for yourself, but you can do the things that you want, too."

"So," Janz held out his hands away from his sides, "what's your point?"

"Just thinking," Jonesy replied with a shrug.

"Thinking about what?"

"That if you put your smarts to work," Jonesy nodded toward Janz, "then you might get more than your share of what's coming to you."

"How?" It was obvious by the eager and selfish glow radiating from Janz' eyes that he was interested.

"You know what Cross wants, don't you? Slim's ranch."

"Sure, I know that…"

"Why?"

"Not sure anyone other than Cross knows," Janz answered, slowly shaking his head.

"Must be a lot of money involved, don't you think? Maybe instead of just getting a cut of pay, you can hit the entire payload. If you kill me, like I figure you're planning on doing, then that's not gonna get you any closer to having your pockets more than just lined, but filled."

"Why should your life change that any?" Janz asked, his hand no longer hovering closely to his gun.

"Because," Jonesy gestured with his head toward the cave, "if Slim's gonna have to give up his ranch, don't you think he'd rather give it because someone spared a life, or someone took a life?"

"I don't know…"

"Look," Jonesy said, liking the shifting expressions on Janz' face, ready to take it all the way. "Slim's a shrewd business man, too. After all that Cross has done to us, Slim's not gonna just roll over and play dead for that man, even if you do kill me. Instead of getting a fight outta him, maybe you could try a different tactic. At least you could, if you were the boss."

"No, I can't do that," Janz shook his head, although the light in his eyes showed that he thought otherwise. "Cross said not to break his orders."

"Break them?" Jonesy said with a chuckle. "You can't break them if you make them."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. You know, Jonesy," Janz said, his teeth showing its widest grin. "I don't think I'm going to kill you after all. Besides, that Jess Harper is more up my alley anyway."

"You're not gonna kill him, are you?" Jonesy asked, suddenly gripped with fear that he'd talked his way out of saving his own skin, only to have the threat be placed upon Jess instead.

"Nah," Janz kept his smile in place, pushing Jonesy back toward the cave, "a good killing can happen any day. Right now, I think I'm going to get what's really coming to me. Money, and lots of it. Get back inside the cave."

"Sure will," Jonesy stepped cautiously through the snow. "It ain't fit for man or beast out here. Hmm," Jonesy's voice dropped to a gentle mumble, pausing at the mouth of the cave as one of the half-breeds had just come into focus, walking up the hill, "there's one of the beasts now."

"He and his brother are another part of the equation that could be crossed out," Janz said, surprising Jonesy that he even heard his muttering. "Get back where you were, I'm sneaking out to meet up with Cross at the ranch."

"Good for you," Jonesy breathed a sigh of relief as his feet returned him inside of the cave.

"Jonesy," Andy stared with wide-eyed shock as Jonesy entered unharmed, "you're back."

"What happened out there, Jonesy?" Slim asked, his eyes looking Jonesy up and down for any sign of injury.

"Oh," Jonesy held in his smile, although he let a swift wink be given to Slim's stunned face, "we took a little walk."

But another man's walk uphill had just come to an end. A half-breed, unaware of the exchange between Jonesy and Janz and a life that had been spared, had just entered the cave. His eyes, once adjusted to the darker light, fell upon an older man that wasn't supposed to be there anymore.

Jonesy. He was supposed to be dead. Something had gone wrong and without C.C. there to redirect, it was all in his hands. Bull wasn't going forward blindly, as one of the boss' last commands was ringing in his ears. "_If anything goes wrong, get the kid out. That kid is all I really need anyway."_ He could handle that, and whatever else was necessary, and he already knew the latter was imminent, as the captives had already attempted an escape. He wouldn't allow that to happen again. Not on his watch. But he would need something big to do it with. Bull cracked his knuckles, one after the other, and then slipping his hand through a crevice in the rock wall, he picked up a different form of weaponry and stuck it in his rear pocket. He was ready. Bull walked in long, silent strides, his aim for the boy that began to cower the further his steps took him.

Slim's voice was raised, but Jess barely noticed the words, just that they came out enraged as the half-breed approached Andy's position. Jess inhaled sharply at the obvious intention of the half-breed, his heart racing as Andy trembled as the large man loomed over him. The pocketknife was now necessary, and Jess' fingers dropped into his pocket and pulled open the blade, instantly beginning the movements to slice through the bindings around his wrists. Jess kept his eyes narrowed, focused on Andy's shivering frame, the incentive to get loose boiling hotter with each second that passed. As Andy was starting to be drug away, the rawhide snapped loose, his insides now close to the magnitude of lava.

The moment Jess was on his feet, he was in a sprint, to catch or to kill, but mostly to save. Jess leapt into the air, crashing into the half-breed's back, both men and boy tumbling to the ground. A deep, guttural moan that rose to a near bellow as both men returned to their feet told Jess that he was facing Bull, but just as if he were standing opposite to a violent, horned animal, snorting fire through its nostrils, he wasn't going to turn and run. He would fight with everything that was in him, and Jess' quickening breaths displayed the battle he was willing to give. But Bull also had something to give.

As Jess prepared his stance and fists for fighting, a grin suddenly split across Bull's face, his hand reaching behind him and Jess expected a gun and the six bullets to go with it, but it was a weapon with a whole different caliber. Dynamite. Jess held a short breath as the match was pulled out of a vest pocket, and with a flick of two fingers, it was alight. Bull closed the smile, his mouth now in a hard line, he held the lit dynamite out toward Jess, and with his other hand, reached for Andy. But Jess was far from deterred. A keg of powder couldn't stop him now.

Jess jumped forward, his foot rising to kick, and with a perfect aim, his boot met Bull's forearm, the momentum of the upward swing spreading the man's hand open, and the dynamite dropped to the ground, rolling out of Bull's reach. In that instant, there would be no more fighting, only a chance to live or die. Bull took one last look at the dynamite, too close to igniting to touch, knowing that he only had one chance, and that was to run. As soon as his long strides started taking him away, Jess stepped toward the dynamite, his eyes rapidly searching for a safer place for it to blow. But there was none.

"Run, Andy, run!" Jess shouted, his hand reaching out for the sparkling stick of dynamite. "Hurry! Get back to Slim and hide your face. Go!"

Jess had only one second to throw. One. And it had just ticked.

The explosion shook with the intensity of a violent earthquake, topped with the ominous clap of thunder, rolling with a boom that would never stop that quickly created another rumble, this coming from the heart of the earth. Mud, water, snow and rocks were suddenly released from the highest peak, cascading downward with more power than a locomotive. Outside light quickly died away, the entrance to the cave being blocked with an innumerous depth of the mountainside until there was nothing but pitch darkness. Even as the light was gone, the sound continued in a loud, earsplitting roar, over and over again, until finally the rumbles gave way to complete silence.

"Is everyone all right?" Slim asked, his eyes darting back and forth, although he could see nothing. Andy was pressed into his side, the boy's trembling enough to tell him that he was unscathed, but he waited until Andy gave him a positive vocal reply. "Jonesy?"

"More or less," Jonesy answered with an unmistakable shudder.

"Jess?"

Slim waited, his breath held as he waited for his partner's reply. But the silence remained.

"Jess?"

:.:.:

_I had a harder time than I thought nailing down Jan Merlin's slimiest type of character, and so I want to especially thank WillowDryad for responding to my request to give me an adjective based description of him. I hope as everyone reads "Janz", they see Jan. I also learned that Jan Merlin passed away in September 2019, and so, this chapter is dedicated to him, for giving us all of those wonderfully acted vile characters that he brought to Laramie._

_An overwhelming amount of requests came in for Jess to be "shirtless or more…" and I don't intend on disappointing my readers, only, just not yet. Stay with me, bare-chested-Jess fans! But, if you need a sudden dose of skin, I'm going to point you to chapter seven of "Condemned", chapter four of "We're Loyal", and a few scenes with Jess in nothing more than a blanket during, "When I'm Alone." Apparently I enjoy writing him this way, just as much as you do reading it, so be prepared, it'll come._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Jess?" Slim repeated one more time, trying to quell the panic rising in his chest, but without an answer for the third consecutive time, it couldn't be stifled.

"Slim," Andy's tearful voice whispered near his ear. "Do you think that he's…?"

"I don't know, Andy, but to find out we've got to get loose," Slim said, pulling himself to his knees, Andy's own unfinished question marks churning inside of his mind. Was Jess still in the cave, or had he made it through the opening before the explosion shook every rock loose? Or, God forbid, was he somewhere underneath it all? "Turn around and let me feel your hands. Good boy, now stay still, I've got my fingers on the rawhide. Let me know if you feel it loosening or if I'm pulling too tight."

"It's coming, Slim," Andy said with excitement, as he started to wiggle his hands, "my right hand is almost free. There!"

"Now get me undone. Hurry," Slim urged, knowing that every second counted if Jess' life was on the line. The moment he felt the binds around his wrists coming apart, he flexed his palms, the ties opening and dropping to the ground. "Thanks Andy. Take care of Jonesy's knots, I've got to find Jess."

Slim placed the image of the cave's interior over the darkness, walking the short space to the nearest rock wall, hoping that what was imprinted in his mind was accurate. Sliding his hand across the rocks, he searched for the lantern that he remembered being perched on a ledge. He knew he had to be close, but Slim also knew that his foot could land in a crevice before he reached it. Slim felt his foot dip, and he held his stance, spreading his injured shoulder as wide as it allowed, when he finally found something that felt like glass.

"Jonesy, do you have a match?" Slim exhaled a held in breath, clutching the lantern to his chest.

"Think so," Jonesy answered, Andy's hands unraveling the rawhide behind him. "Andy, feel in my vest pocket and see if there's a match."

"Just one," Andy replied, holding tightly to the small stick.

"Better make good use of it then," Jonesy said, placing a hand on Andy's back, "carefully take it to your brother. Don't trip."

"Here, Slim," Andy reached out in the darkness, feeling for his brother and as he gripped the fabric of his shirt, the two palms collided, exchanging the match from one to the other.

"You smell something burning?" Jonesy asked, taking a deep breath through his nostrils.

"I just lit the match," Slim began, holding the flickering light near his eyes, but as his nose began to twitch, he realized it wasn't coming from anything in his fingertips. Quickly bringing the small flame to the lantern, as the brighter glow surrounded him, Slim swung the lantern around, the circle of light stretching far enough to reach a crumpled frame on the ground.

"Over there!" Jonesy pointed, all three of them running to Jess' unmoving body, the sight and smell coming together as wisps of smoke curled up from Jess' legs, arms and torso.

"Jess is on fire!" Andy's shout was hurtled directly back at him as the echo could travel no further than the separation of the stone walls.

"His clothes are smoldering," Slim's reply was more accurately stated, but it wasn't any less frightening.

"Better get him undressed, quick!" Jonesy said, beginning to tug on Jess' boots, the bottle of whiskey coming out in his hand as its medicinal properties would soon be needed. "His skin'll be next!"

With no time to open each button, Slim's hands gripped the top of Jess' collar and ripped down the center of his shirt, some of the buttons popping like corn off of the fabric and onto the stone floor. He carefully rolled Jess over, jerking the remainder of the shirt from Jess' back and slapped the hot fabric against the cold ground. His jeans created less smoke, but they were next to come off. Slim unbuckled Jess' belt and with Jonesy at the left and Slim at the right, they tugged together until Jess' pants released their tight hold against his backside. The added protection of Jess' cropped long johns spared his thighs from the heat, but from the knees down, Jess' skin was nearly as red as his underwear.

"Why wasn't he wearing an undershirt?" Slim asked, watching as Jonesy ran his hands over Jess' arms, feeling for burn marks. Slim didn't have to examine his partner the way Jonesy was doing to know if anything abnormal was there. His chest and down lower, especially around his navel, were dotted with blisters.

"He only has one fit to wear, and I washed it the morning we were took out," Jonesy said, slightly shaking his head. "I think the only thing that stopped him from fully igniting was that his shirt was already damp from our snowy trot up here. Otherwise, he'd be burned to a crisp."

"Some of his hair is singed," Slim ran his hand over the back of Jess' head, receiving a deep moan to form in Jess' chest as Slim's fingers probed for an additional blow to his skull, but only found the one that the half-breed had clubbed into him. "Sorry, Jess."

"That wasn't from your touch, Slim," Jonesy said, pressing his fingers into Jess' side, receiving another groan as a response. "Feels like he's got a couple of broken ribs. Right now there's not much I can do about that, but I sure wish we had some water to bathe down his skin with. At least the air is cold, that's better than nothing."

"Is he hurt badly, Jonesy?" Andy asked, wanting to reach out and touch Jess, but he kept his hands to his sides.

"Not too bad, Andy," Jonesy answered, his eyes lifting to the newly erected rock barrier that spanned from the cave's floor to its ceiling, and from an outside view, likely much wider and beyond anyone's reach. "He's pretty lucky, considering."

"From the way he's lying here, it looks like the blast probably hurtled him backward," Slim said, lifting the lantern to better illuminate their surroundings. "If it hadn't, he'd be buried underneath all of that rubble."

"His face is free from blisters," Jonesy pointed to Jess' cheeks. "He must've put his arms up over his eyes to shield them. Good thing that he did, too. Could've been worse no matter which way you look at it."

"How come he isn't waking up?" Andy looked back and forth between Slim and Jonesy. "There's not something else wrong, is there?"

"Not that I can find," Jonesy slightly shook his head as his hands ran back over Jess' arms, legs and then back to his ribs, the result of the pain making Jess flinch. "He might be trying to come around."

"Jess?" The three voices chimed nearly in unison.

"You all right, Pard?" Slim leaned his head closer to Jess' face as his eyelashes began to flutter, glimmers of blue reflecting the lantern light.

"Sl…Sli…mmm?" Jess quickly reached a hand upward and Slim caught his arm near his wrist, slowly bringing it back to Jess' side.

"Right here, Jess," Slim slid his hand up Jess' arm and squeezed his shoulder. "You've got to stop brushing so close to death."

"I think you're bound to make an old woman outta me," Jonesy chuckled, and Jess moved his eyes from Slim to Jonesy's face and then back again.

"Slim," Jess tried to raise his head, repeating Slim's name two more times, his voice sounding hollow, adjusting in volume before his head settled back to the cold, stone surface. "What's the matter with me?"

"Well, Jonesy said that you've got…"

"I said, what's the matter with me?"

"Jess, I'm trying to answer…"

"Dad-gum!" Jess' voice was a rattled shout, his body starting to quiver, enough that the tremble touched his lips, the repetitive question now coming out in a mere whisper. "What's the matter with me?"

"Jonesy?" Slim barely breathed the man's name, his eyes not leaving Jess' painful expression, accentuated by his partner's tightly closed eyes and slightly open mouth. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, but I wonder," Jonesy ran his fingers along Jess' cheek, brushing upward until he reached his ear, and there, Jonesy lowered his mouth. "Jess? Can you hear me?"

But there was no response.

"Jess can't," Andy pulled his body backward, a hand rising to hover near his mouth. "Jess can't… No!"

"Take it easy, Andy," Slim tried to make his voice sound calm, but his pulse was racing just as rapidly as what thundered in his brother's chest, the fear running through his veins with the same velocity as he said the words inside of his head that Andy couldn't utter aloud. _Jess can't hear._

"Jess," Jonesy moved his fingers to touch the corners of Jess' eyes, making the lids pop open. "Look at me," and now Jonesy's finger drew to a point from Jess' eyes to Jonesy's chest as he spoke slowly and carefully. "Look at me. Now, tell me if you can hear anything."

"What?" Jess asked, the fear that he usually masked now showing in every line of his face. "I can't… I can't… hear you. I can't… I can't… even hear myself."

"Calm down, Jess," Slim put his hands on Jess' shoulders to keep him still. "It's probably just…" But then Slim closed his mouth. It's probably just, _what_? He didn't have any answer, and even if he did, how could Slim relay those words to Jess, when his ears were as closed as the mouth of the cave?

Jess looked up at Slim, his mouth forming words that he couldn't understand, the only one able to be deciphered was his own name. He shook his head when Slim abruptly stopped, knowing that the reality of his hearing loss had just slapped his partner in the face like it was repeatedly doing to him. A shiver coursing through his body, Jess switched his gaze to his bare chest, arching a brow as it wasn't only his upper half that was exposed to the chilly air, but everything, his only covering the underwear over his backside and hips. Feeling a tap on his arm, Jess lifted his eyes to Jonesy, holding up his shirt, tattered and holey, the charred spots explanation enough that his body had been doing more than just smoking.

He had pain, searing from his side, up to the surface and across his stomach, but a burn couldn't penetrate that deep. Jess pressed a hand to his ribs, inhaling a sharp rush of air as he made contact with the break, his eyes smarting with tears that he would never let grow into actual droplets. If only that was where his severity ended. But it was more, much more. If Jess was going to face this battle, it was going to be on his feet. Jess didn't care what anyone would say, and since he couldn't hear whatever was coming out of their mouths, it didn't matter much anyway. Jess was getting up. No stick of dynamite, no depraved half-breed, no burn, no break, no pain, no loss, not anything, was going to keep him on the ground.

Jess slowly stood, wanting to brush away the hands that helped him to his feet, but allowing the various grips around his arms to guide him upward. Jess knew he shouldn't turn the family away, as helping him had been a part of all of their lives since he first stepped foot on Sherman property, but he couldn't ignore his sudden isolation. He wasn't alone, but with a vital part of his being suddenly gone, the emotion that pushed hard inside of his chest was pure loneliness. They were all in the cave together, but Jess was locked in his own private cave. And like the rocks that were piled up against the opening, there was no wait out.

"You all right?" Andy asked, keeping his hands on Jess' flesh the longest.

Jess knew by the slow mouth movements what Andy had asked, but all he could give in response was a simple nod. He hurt throughout his body, the biggest throb coming from his side. His skin tingled in two different forms with cold and heat. And every sound was blocked by the ringing in his ears. Jess was far from all right, but what was the point of saying so if he couldn't hear his own proclamation? He could have shouted, whispered, or the first word to the last could have ranged up and down and anywhere in between and he would never know what volume or intensity he had used. No, the simple nod would just have to do.

Jess took a wobbly step, Andy's hand releasing its hold on his arm as he moved, giving him the ability to pull both hands up to touch his ears. The silence was somehow like thunder reverberating in his head. Or maybe that was just his thoughts. With only his brain to listen to, bursts of anger, frustration and pain were at its forefront, and without anything from outside of his body able to penetrate beyond the surface, the notes of fury would remain in place.

Jess took another step and as the rocky ground underneath him bit into his sock, the need for a more secure footfall brought his body around to grab his boots. His pants remained where they had been tossed, as at the moment, his boots were the only necessity. Jess stuck both feet into his boots, securing them with a stamp, his left unintentionally kicking a small rock into the shadows, but it wasn't another stone that it rolled against. Something was there. Turning, Jess sought Slim and the lantern that he held, talking, or at least by appearance Slim was talking, the worried expression that his partner wore was enough for Jess to know the subject matter was him. Normally a conversation centered about him without his knowledge wouldn't bother Jess, but now it only made the loneliness grow worse.

"Slim," Jess ventured with his voice, gaining all three's immediate attention. Jess gestured with his hand for Slim to come closer, not trusting his throat to offer another word. Strange, talking since he could say the simplest phrases as a baby up until now, and Jess wasn't sure what his own voice sounded like anymore. Maybe he didn't want to know. To Slim, Jonesy and Andy, Jess' call had sounded like a tortured plea.

Slim raised the lantern at Jess' point, hurrying the short span to be by his side. The dynamite built wall was directly in front of them, but it wasn't entirely made of rocks, as something at the bottom was made of flesh, blood and bone, for an arm stuck out from underneath the pile of rubble, the skin the color of a half-breed. Jonesy leaned down and pressed his fingers into the wrist, but there wasn't a single beat of life relaying from one to the other. Bull was dead. Jonesy slowly shook his head, the grim expression his pronouncement as he straightened back to his normal height.

Jess' throat froze in mid-swallow. That could have been him. It would have been him, if Jess hadn't released the dynamite when he did, his body turning to leap away from the blast the moment that it detonated, the power launching his frame farther than his own strength could have carried him. Jess felt his landing all over again, his sound already muted from the start, the rising heat, the increasing pain, and the crashing boulders that shook the ground underneath him. The moment that his personal light went out as Jess' consciousness faded, Jess remembered his final thought. He was meeting his Maker. But the Maker had another plan, even if Jess didn't like it. Jess finally finished his swallow, because that could have been him.

"Jess," Andy looked up at Jess' stiff frame, wondering how he could reach him. Not with sound, as speaking his name had produced nothing, but at least in his touch, there could be something.

Jess looked down when he felt a small hand slip into his, and suddenly, Jess didn't feel all that alone anymore. "Thanks." He didn't know if it was the whisper that had been intended, or if came in the same silence that enfolded him, but the shine in Andy's eyes was a clear enough response that it was received.

"Tough way to die," Jonesy shook his head, putting the death behind him.

"He had a tough way to live," Slim answered, his feet turning him in the same direction as Jonesy.

"Somehow I don't feel much better knowing that one of them isn't going to be looking over my shoulder anymore" Jonesy frowned, still moving forward with Slim beside him.

"Right now, none of them can," Slim said, looking in every direction.

"You think there's any other way out?" Jonesy lowered his voice, barely turning to look over his shoulder where Jess and Andy stood.

"I don't know," Slim turned a full circle, the light spreading out around him only able to reveal more rocks. When he stilled his feet, Slim gave a soft sigh and then lowered the flame. "The lantern doesn't have a lot of kerosene left," Slim explained when Jonesy gave him a puzzled eyebrow lift.

"That's not the only thing that we're gonna be running low on," Jonesy said, taking a short breath through his nostrils.

Slim nodded, understanding their lack of air supply, not wanting to relay the additional frightening information to Andy. He would learn about it soon enough anyway, there was no point hurrying up fear's awful process. Slim lifted the lamp upward, the darkness on the other side of the light making the cave's interior even more ominous. There wasn't any way to know if it was night or day. The sound was completely cut off around them to help decipher the hour, but at least he could still hear his own breaths, Jonesy's soft groan as he pressed both hands into his back, and Andy's quiet murmur, offering comfort through his prayers for Jess. But Jess couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear any of it.

Slim turned, his eyes latching onto Jess, his stance was strong, but there was something missing on his face. Jess would never be vulnerable, but despite his partner being the most independent man he had ever met, standing next to Andy, wearing nothing but his underwear, Jess appeared helpless, almost frail. But Slim knew that was only on the outside, unless the loss of his hearing started to cut deep into his soul. Andy already had taken his stance to not let it, and Slim needed to do the same. The other worries could wait, Jess' could not. Slim's strides took him the difference between his position and Jess, his hand rising up to squeeze into the flesh of Jess' shoulder.

"Pard," Slim said, knowing that most of what he spoke would have to be relayed through something other than his voice. Blue met blue and Slim softened his expression, the hard lines diminishing to allow the friendship to shine. "This isn't bigger than us."

Jess nodded, understanding what he could see in Slim's eyes more than what he could read on his mouth, those smarting tears burning in the corners of his eyes once more, but just as before, he wouldn't let them drop. Slim shared the same blurred vision, their eyes locked together, but it was also in their clasp, for the two hands met, the firm handshake a sealed bond that could never be torn apart.

"Here," Jonesy stepped closer and handed the whiskey to Jess, motioning with his hand to drink. "Take a swig. Just leave some for later."

"Later?" Slim gave Jonesy a sideways glance, but the older man only gave him a shrug. Slim didn't really need an explanation. He knew freedom might be a long time in coming.

"What're we going to do now?" Andy asked, looking fearfully up at Slim.

"We're going to have to try to find a way out," Slim answered, raising his eyes to the top of the massive slide and back down again. "But for certain, we're not going to get out this way."

"Then how?"

"We'll find a way," Slim answered, his voice offering more hope than what he felt. "There's no point in standing around here, though, so we might as well start searching."

"You better get dressed, Jess," Jonesy said, picking up Jess' shirt and pants from the cave's floor, taking a necessary quickened pace to catch up with Jess, who followed after Slim, his concern so far away from being clothed that he had forgotten he was close to being naked. But as Jess couldn't hear his approach, when Jonesy reached a hand to his shoulder, Jess whipped around as if he were ready to draw, aim and shoot in one easy motion, if he had been wearing a gun. "Sorry, Jess. Don't you want your clothes?"

If there ever was a blush to Jess Harper's cheeks, it was at that moment. He pulled on his pants in one easy motion, tightening the belt around his waist. The jeans had come through the explosion mostly unscathed, but his shirt was in tatters. Jess looked at the torn fabric, knowing that it was better than nothing, and he slid his fists through each armhole, but the rest could only drape over his front, leaving an ample amount of his chest and abdomen exposed. He laid a hand on his ribs and took a gentle breath, realizing the looseness of his shirt was actually a good thing, especially since they were going to be doing some walking, and potentially, a lot of it.

"Looks like the cave's a bit deeper over here where we were tied up," Slim said, holding the lantern, his eyes searching beyond the glow. "But there's still nothing wide opening up."

"What's that, Slim?" Andy asked, pointing to a darker line on the furthermost rocks.

"I don't know, Andy," Slim held out a hand so that the other's steps would be paused as Slim crawled forward. "It looks deeper than a shadow. I think…it is! Good work, Andy, this leads to a tunnel. Come on, maybe we've got our way out."

It was narrow, only enough space that they could pass through one at a time, but there was enough head room that Slim didn't have to crouch. For a lengthy amount of time that no one would attempt to count, they walked, sometimes only inching forward, other times taking regular steps, but each one became dimmer, in light and in hope, as they still hadn't found the connection to the outdoors.

"Slim," Andy started, swallowing twice before his voice turned into a cough.

"Andy, you don't have to pretend anymore," Slim said, briefly taking his eyes away from the path to look down at his brother's face. "There's no way Cross can hear us."

"I'm," Andy sneezed, rubbing his throat as he tried to prevent a cough from following but was unsuccessful, his throat rattling several times before he could continue. "I'm not pretending anymore."

"What?" Slim reached his hand out and touched his brother's forehead, the heat under his palm matching the pale color of his cheeks. He really wasn't pretending. Andy was sick.

Slim tried not to let his sigh pass through his lips with the same amount of distress that he felt, but the air rushed through his mouth in a troubled burst. He had been leading the way to hopeful freedom, but Slim could no longer take another step forward, the surmounting weight of its knowledge crashing hard onto his frame. All of it. Jess lost his hearing, Jonesy's back was about to give out, Andy really was sick and they'd just reached a dead end.

…

Janz had ridden most of the night to catch up with Cross. It was daylight now, the snow no longer mingling with the rain and there were only a few more miles before the lead horse would reach Sherman property. If Janz was going to make his play, it better be now, because he had just caught a glimpse of a suit. He put a pair of fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, making Cross whip around in the saddle, the shocked, or maybe that was angry, expression on his face evident even at their distance apart. Janz filled his hand with his gun and urged his horse onward, his meeting with Cross far from welcomed, as Cross' hand wasn't empty either.

"Janz, you're a fool," Cross held his gun tightly, the level of his aim nearly the exact position that Janz held toward him. "I ought to trigger this gun all six times into you."

"Then I'd do the same to you," Janz sneered, his own hand unwavering, "if for no other reason than you calling me a fool. But I have a bigger one."

"A bigger reason?" Cross quickly raised both eyebrows before narrowing his eyes into a squint, "like what?"

"Like money," Janz answered, his explanation accentuated by his mouth barely separating as he spoke.

"Money?"

"You want Sherman's ranch, don't you?" Janz gave an exaggerated shrug. "What for, other than money? I figure I'm going to get more than my share."

"You're a fool," Cross watched the angry burst of color fill Janz' cheeks at the repeated insult and he knew if he wasn't holding his own gun, he'd be a dead man. "You don't know anything about the money."

"See," Janz laughed, his wicked smile blooming brighter, "I was right. There is money involved."

"But only for me," Cross pointed to his chest.

"How?" The laughter was abruptly silenced.

"If you put your gun up, then I'll tell you."

"Nothing doing," Janz answered, his teeth disappearing behind his frown. "That'll only give you reason to put some lead in me."

"I need you," Cross tapped the air with his gun. "Or I would. Believe me I would. Now, put your gun up, shut up and listen."

"All right," Janz reluctantly dropped his gun inside of his holster. "You win. But this better be worth it."

"It will be," Cross said, his eyes following the gun to leather, only then allowing his to be replaced behind his jacket. "So here it is. My uncle is three things," Cross explained, flicking one finger in the air for each descriptive word. "Old, eccentric and rich. A couple of months ago, Uncle Herb wrote his will, and it states that all of his money will go to his only living relative, me. But there's a catch. I have to be a rancher, as Uncle Herb always held onto a dream of being a rancher. Yet it can't be just any ranch, not too big, not too fancy, and located in prime cattle country. The Sherman ranch fits everything perfectly. Oh, and having an orphan boy under my wing makes for a pretty good prop, too. That's why I picked it. That's why I want it."

"But you're not a rancher," Janz rolled his eyes, as the suit wasn't the only giveaway of Cross' lack of ranch knowledge. At least Janz wore the correct attire, and he knew a thing or two about cattle, so just maybe, maybe…

"Since I can still see those wheels turning," Cross twirled a finger in the air, "I better add an important detail. No one else can take my place, because no one else is me. I wrote my uncle, and he'll be in Laramie around the first of April to tour my home and how the inheritance will make it into a booming empire. He'll be ready to sign a check when he takes a look at that dump Sherman calls a house. And then, poor old Uncle Herb is suddenly going to die from an Indian raid."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out," Janz slowly nodded his head. "Except that you don't have the ranch."

"Yet," Cross snapped the word like he'd just broken a twig. "I will have it. And I'd be a lot closer to it if you weren't here. I take it Jonesy's still alive?"

"Well," Janz lowered his gaze to the ground as he lifted one shoulder. "He was when I left."

"Well, it can still be done, but Janz, you're being here is only helping them up there. And Janz, so help me if they've escaped, you're going to be Bull and Snake bait. And I don't have to tell you what they like to do with their victims."

"They'll still be there," Janz said overconfidently, his lips retaking on his smile. "And I'll do my job right this time. After all, don't you need a good ranch foreman for crazy old uncle to see?"

"I think that can be worked out," Cross gave a slight nod to the north. "I'll bypass the ranch for now. Let's get going."

The moment their horses were turned, a different group was setting out.

Mort kept his good hand on the reins, urging his horse forward to find once more the path that had taken the larger posse into danger, but it wasn't far into the renewed journey, when he and his two companions suddenly fell in step with a different trail. Even then, the instincts of a lawman were already in place, the imprints in the muddy soil taking him too close to the original road to be a coincidence. They were out there, so close that Mort could smell them, but it wasn't yet that he could see them. He paused when the tracks started clomping into snow, the distinguishing trail leading up to a snowcapped mountain. The destination had changed, but the goal remained the same.

…

Jess sensed Slim's discouragement, more than just the slumping of his shoulders, but by the pinched expression that he wore on his brow. The glow from the lantern in Slim's hand dimmed down to near nothingness, but it could still project far enough to show that they had reached the end of the tunnel. There was nowhere else to turn except back from where they came. Jess slowly took in a breath, the air feeling thin and stale, watching as Slim put a hand on Andy's forehead, the boy scrunching up his face as his mouth formed the sign of a ragged cough. Discouragement started knocking hard against Jess' own chest, but determination knew how to knock even harder. Jess motioned with his hand, for now it was his turn to lead.

He didn't need the lantern, using only his memory to navigate forward along the rocky wall, Jess retraced his steps through the narrow pathway. When Slim was ahead of him, the light leading the way, he had kept his focus on the beam, but now that it was behind him, Jess allowed his focus to roam, searching every crevice of the rocks, and everything became clearer, including some shifts in the darkest shadows. Because when one thing is shut off, something else tries to take its place. That was how Jess felt, as his pace increased when something in his middle urged him onward, his vision reached farther, his nose caught every whiff, and his skin felt every prickle. And suddenly Jess came to a stop. It was colder. Why? Jess sniffed, a light, wintry fragrance triggering his senses even further. Snow. It was so close, he could almost taste the iciness on his lips, but when he reached out a hand, only the hard mountainside was felt.

Jess turned, wanting to make sure he hadn't hurried too far ahead of the others, his eyes finding the same emptiness that resided in his ears. The light was gone. His hand spreading into the darkness, Jess felt for the touch of fabric or flesh, but there was none. Jess inhaled a sharp breath, knowing that if they were close, they could hear him, his breathing and his movements, but he couldn't share the same advantage.

"Jonesy? Slim? Andy?" Jess' voice, like the panic, rose with each name, but if there was any response, he would never hear it. He took a few steps, his hand remaining empty, the force of the barrenness hitting him sharply in his heart. "Dad-gum!"

He could return all the way back to the tunnel's end, or he could follow his gut. Jess slowed his breathing, the choice that he'd made before the dark discovery retaking shape inside of his core. He still smelled the snow. He still felt the cold. He still could see the lines of the rocks ahead of him. That was it. He could still see. Jess hurried forward, the shape of the rock in front of him in an odd outline, but it was gray. Everything else was black. Jess picked up a sharp rock and thrust it against the lighter color, the ice breaking on contact, the snow on its other side beginning to slide to another surface, the cold air rushing in with a small beacon of light. Jess continued to pound, the size growing with each strike, and soon it wasn't only his hands involved. They were still with him. Jess had never been lost or alone.

With a few more solid breaks, they were free. Stepping out into the open, the snowy whiteness of the higher elevation was all around them, the swirling wind bringing a chill to each body, more coughs to Andy's throat, and all sets of eyes searching high to low and left to right. They had made the first step of their escape, but they didn't know what would be their second, although the only plausible direction was somewhere down. Yet with the snow cover, there could be hidden dangers lurking with each step, and more was starting to fall from the sky. But they had to start somewhere. Slim lead the way, breaking the path for Jonesy with Andy tucked against his side, but Jess lingered behind, his soundless steps being taken in their own trail downward, perhaps more aware of the elements than any of them.

Snowfall was always silent, and as Jess watched the flakes gently falling from the sky, their landing producing the same nothingness that was in his ears. They weren't without beauty, their white, almost lacy shapes flitting from the sky. But ashes could produce the same image. And there was no beauty in ashes. What would it be like, going forward in life with only the sound of snowflakes that held the severity of ashes? Jess shook his head, not wanting to know, but then again, the snowflakes were really all the knowledge he needed. Snowfall was always silent, but its opposite never was. Rain made a soft splash or a hard pour, running into gurgling streams that fed leafy trees, blowing softly or raucously in the various velocities of the wind, their canopies home for singing birds and chattering chipmunks. These pleasant noises were now only in his memory. But where they really resided was in his heart, with courage, strength, tenacity and something yet undefined.

He had never heard the half-breeds when he had full use of his hearing, but Jess knew the remaining one's presence now as if he had heard his every approaching step, the trepidation like the roar of a waterfall in his ears. Jess turned, seeing Snake standing still, high atop a rock, but he wasn't alone. The two sinister foes were with him, and all of them were armed and dangerous, the half-breed's rifle in a deadly aim toward Slim's unsuspecting back.

Jess' mouth opened, the warning ready on his tongue.

"Slim!"

:.:.:

_I was planning on writing the most requested scene in a hurry, without Jess getting hurt, only baring skin, but then in the course of sharing some back and forth PM's with WillowDryad, she made a comment saying, "make sure Jess gets lots of comfort to go with the hurt." I shrugged it off at first, but then as I started writing, I toyed with the idea of how the dynamite could have hurt Jess. Through sound. Once I wrote that first line, I couldn't turn back. So, I thank WillowDryad for creating that idea (although it did take me longer to write it since it totally threw off what I originally had in mind)._

_A few chapters ago, Daryl Silvers created the idea of Cross wanting the Sherman ranch, but I hadn't finalized his reasoning. I had a few possible scenarios, but was leaving it open, but it was finally Nakoosay's thoughts that clinched what was revealed in this chapter, so a big thanks goes to her for helping with that plotline._

_As for Jess' shirtless scenes, Kappa Girl was the one that requested the "and more" so, I obliged, but you know, there was no need to twist my arm to provide for "more."_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

He didn't hear the shout that burst through his lips or the crack of the rifle, but he saw Slim go down. Jess started to run to his partner, the snow becoming dotted with bullets at his feet, and he was forced to change course, the outlaw's aim now directed at him. Leaping behind a rock, Jess' ribs collided with a jagged edge and he held in the pained reply that coursed through his throat, the wince on his face momentarily blinding him from Slim's prostrate position in the snow. As a wave of pain dissolved into something more tolerable, Jess raised his head, but Slim's body was no longer in sight. It was too soon for any relief to touch his core, but one tell-tale sign was there. The snow was still white where he had lain.

Jess darted his eyes back and forth, not knowing if the bullets still flew or if the gunshots had gone silent. He could no longer see the adversaries, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Any man toting a firearm with the intent to injure or kill could easily be well placed to pull the trigger again once their victim was in sight. Jess didn't have all the answers that he sought, especially where Slim was concerned, but he wasn't about to step into the open to find out and have a bullet take him down instead. At least, not yet. His hearing loss wasn't going to stand in the way of the life of his partner for long. If his eyes couldn't find any evidence of the good or evil around him soon, Jess would make a move, because he wasn't about to stay stuck behind a rock without fighting for what was most important to him, only because he couldn't hear the bullet that could possibly come for him.

"I'm all right, Jess," Slim said from his hunched down position where he had sought better safety. He bit his lip, as the words had come naturally out of his mouth even though he knew that his partner couldn't hear him. If it hadn't been for Jess' shout, Slim's life could have easily been lost, for the warning reached his ears just in time to drop his body into the snow as the bullet whizzed over his back.

"Do you see him?" Andy asked, his voice now coming out in only a croak.

"No," Slim shook his head, "I think he dove into the rocks behind us a ways back. He wasn't right behind me like you were."

Andy and Jonesy were tucked along his side, hidden between two rocks, their quarters rather tight, but for the moment, they were safe. The bullets had stopped, yet it was only a matter of time before the men that had fired them would start sniffing them out. Slim could no longer see them, but he knew they were there, just as he couldn't see Jess, but he knew he was there. But there was a difference. Jess couldn't obtain all of the knowledge that he had about the guns no longer exploding, or that a bullet hadn't ripped through Slim's flesh. And he knew what that lack of knowledge could force Jess to do, the results a strong possibility that Jess was soon to get shot.

"What're you thinking, Slim?" Jonesy asked, watching the expression shift on Slim's face and not liking what it meant.

"I've got to try to reach Jess," Slim answered, his eyes searching above him, but couldn't land on Cross, Janz or the half-breed. They were either finding a path to get down to their level, or positioned in such a way that as soon as a piece of flesh was exposed, someone was going to shoot it off.

"You can't go out there," Jonesy put his hand on Slim's arm, knowing the fatal possibilities just as well as Slim did.

"Better me that makes the first move than Jess," Slim said, pulling in a deep breath, ready to take the leap. "You two stay here."

Slim raised his body, the breath still held in his chest, and as soon as his foot hit the open space, he ran, the air staying silent around him, the only sound the crunching of his feet in the snow. His eyes found the back of Jess and the front of the surviving half-breed at nearly the same moment. Jess' body was rising along with the rifle, and although there was nothing wrong with Jess' vision, a snow-crusted boulder stood in his path, blocking Snake completely from his line of sight. And unlike Jess' shout that saved Slim from sudden peril, Slim couldn't offer the same kind of warning.

Increasing his pace, Slim rushed forward, not allowing the snow cover to hinder him, and just as the rifle's aim was completed, Slim's hands reached Jess' back. Creating a surprised cry from his throat, Slim jerked Jess downward, the bullet only clipping away another piece of fabric from Jess' arm as the two men went down. A rush of air burst through both men's lips from pain and relief at the jarring of their injuries upon their landing, but nothing new had been added to their afflictions. Yet, for how much longer would that remain? As long as someone carrying iron was still after them, their safety was only temporary. But for now, all that mattered was that their togetherness was now complete.

"I thought you got your head blowed off," Jess spoke tentatively, its lack of gravel not lost to Slim's ears.

"No," Slim shook his head, motioning each word with his hands as he barely spoke them aloud. "Trying to stop you from getting the same."

"Thanks," Jess smiled, gauging by the way Slim's eyes were searching that someone was coming, someone armed and rather unfriendly. "But what now?"

"I don't know," Slim said softly, more to himself than to Jess' silent ears. What would happen now? They had nothing. Not even the pocketknife that had aided them before was any use now. It remained on the floor of the cave where Jess had dropped it in his haste to stop the now dead half-breed from taking Andy.

But down below where they hid, waiting for the beast to strike, three men on the right side of the law had just entered the scene. The white and rocky landscape above them partially hid the group of four that they wanted to see, but it was no mystery where the lawbreakers were. One of them walked stealthily downward, his eyes fastened on a singular position, bringing the furrowing of furry eyebrows to finally find focus on the large man's destination.

"Looky there," Cade pointed upward, his shotgun rising with his gesture, "if it ain't that feller that looks like an Indian ready to cut loose on that honest feller and his friend. I wonder if I can hit him from here?"

He couldn't, not with his shotgun, but the loud report that was made when he triggered it brought a sudden shift of the half-breed's aim. Mort pulled Cade out of the line of fire behind a crop of rocks just in time to stop Judge Barnaby Cade from going to his reward, the bullets from Mose's gun sending a retreating step to the large feet that were above them. The battle had begun, lower versus higher, and those that were stuck in between could only watch as the guns spit their bullets at each other, and hope that only the enemy would fall.

"What is it?" Jess asked, turning his gaze in the same direction that Slim was faced, noting by the look in his partner's eyes that something was happening.

"More gunfire," Slim shaped his finger into a gun, pointing toward the lower level of the mountain.

"They slip behind us?" Jess asked, trying to catch a glimpse of Cross' suit or Janz' sneer. He was certain that even at that distance he would be able to see the shady man's constant expression. It would have been pure pleasure for Jess to smack it clean off of him, but above or behind him, Jess would never get the chance.

"No," Slim shook his head, touching Jess' arm to point with his other finger back above them. "They're still up there all right." Now Slim's finger guided Jess to the right location down below. "Someone's on our side."

The bullets took on a rapid back and forth pattern, the snow gaining more holes at its surface, the rocks taking their share of staccato beats as they bounced to another destination. Both sides were well placed, enough cover that a good shot couldn't properly be made, but the longer the gunplay continued, their ammunition was starting to lessen. Someone had to take a step forward to gain a better shot, or the job might not get completed. The star on Mort's chest made him that someone. He gave a look to his companions, showing them what he was going to do, and as they started the barrage to cover him, Mort stepped out into the open, his rifle waiting for perhaps its only chance. It soon came.

Snake walked away from his security, as fixed to win as he had been the first time his gun was trained on the badge and he found the mark once more, his grin spreading across his face because now he knew he would never miss. Snake took a steadying breath, the pressure on his finger ready to fire, but Mort was one second ahead of him, and only one trigger would get pulled. Mort's bullet struck Snake, his name suddenly appropriate by the hissing noise that came from his lips when his body dropped to the snow. He rolled slightly, his upper thigh in a tight grip with both of his hands, the rifle that he had repeatedly used to do his damage no longer in an enemy's hold. And although there were still two guns above him that could have continued to be fired, seeing the experienced gunman's fight come to an end brought the sudden urge to flee.

"Look," Slim pointed Jess' attention upward, as Janz and Cross were beginning to retreat. "Let's go!"

Jess needed no other invitation. He had been waiting for this chance from the moment of their meeting, and as Slim rushed up the slope, gaining ground on their enemies, he felt the same surge of anticipation that was pumping swiftly through Jess. With pain still seizing Slim's shoulder and Jess' ribs, they wouldn't have normally been fit for fighting, but with a solid fist attached to each hand and what raged on their insides, it would be enough to fuel them even in a long, drawn out battle. As only a few more steps were needed to put them within striking distance, Slim put his fingers into the shape of a cross and then pointed to his chest, his message quite clear. Cross belonged to Slim. That suited Jess just fine. Janz would fit perfectly on the other side of his fists anyway. And Jess was about ready to catch up to him.

Jess jumped, the remaining distance between the outlaw's body and his spanned quickly through his leap. Landing both hands on his back, Jess pulled him down, their bodies rolling together in the snow until Jess was on top, his hands filling with the fabric around Janz' neck to haul him to his feet. Jess promptly placed his fist into Janz' cheek, the impact of the hit spinning Janz backward, but Jess quickly reached an arm out, pulling Janz upward for another punch. The forceful jab into Janz' jaw made Jess' fingers tingle, but then his stomach would respond similarly as Janz brought a foot into his belly. Jess landed in the snow, his backside sinking in as he tried to right himself, but his entire body would fall backward as two stout slaps blazed across each cheek, his hair being surrounded by the cold, wet snow.

As Jess rose from the ground and turned his head to avoid another punch, Slim had just taken his first. Cross might have claimed that he left the dirty work up to his associates, but the man still knew how to hold his own, downing Slim with a single whack. If Slim had never landed on his bad shoulder, he would have instantly been back on his feet, delivering his own blow instead of receiving another, but Cross hit Slim squarely across the jaw when he started to rise. This was where a pompous attitude started a failure. Cross stepped forward, bringing a hand up to wipe the single drop of blood from his cheek, his mouth curling up in a smile as Slim stayed level with the snow. Cross opened his mouth, a victory speech readied on his tongue, but then Slim brought a foot up, clipping Cross in the knee. When one went down, the other came up, but Slim wouldn't allow the man to hover near the ground, for his fists still had more action to pummel into Cross' face.

Jess grunted as his ribs took a glancing blow, enough to knock the wind out of him, but not enough to put him back on the ground. His arm pulling back for another blow, Jess braced his feet and solidly made contact with Janz' nose, the legs of his opponent staggering, unable to retaliate further as Janz crumpled into the snow. Jess dropped his hands to his knees, drips of what he first thought was sweat pouring into his eyes, but it was only melting snow. He shook his head, the frigid droplets from his hair falling around him, the remaining drips cascading down his cheeks and trickling across the bare skin that peeked through each tear in his shirt.

Jess felt the brush of a body close by his side, for Slim's stout punch sent Cross spiraling in his direction. Regaining his height, a smile spread across Jess' face at the sudden opportunity to take a piece out of Cross for himself. He looked at Slim, the nod of permission granted, and Jess gripped the edge of Cross' suit, his face too close to miss, and Jess planted a firm fist into a gasping mouth, careening the body back into Slim's grasp. Slim had never been the type of man that burned with retaliation, but with each strike from his fist that had pounded into Cross' flesh, the reason for each one had rang inside of his head, and now he had saved the biggest for last. Slim put all of his strength into his arm, the pulse in his temple sounding out the cause that Cross had forced Andy to shoot him. The strong punch and its meaning sent Cross into the snow for good, the man's lights going out upon his landing.

"You planning on killing me?" Janz asked as Jess yanked the gun out of the man's holster. "Because if you do, you'll be just as low as I am."

Jess couldn't decipher anything that Janz' lips might have uttered, but just by the beady-eyed look that he gave him, Jess had the feeling that if he knew, his hand would have dropped another fist into his sneering face. He almost placed one there anyhow, but the gun felt better in his grip than the sting of flesh underneath his palm. Giving Slim's defeated opponent a quick look and seeing him knocked out on the ground, Jess returned his full attention to Janz, the gun starting to inch closer to a bruised and bloodied face. He might have to wait for Slim to translate, but it was time to have answers to their insufferable turmoil, and as the half-breed had seemed to keep a tight lip right from the start, Janz was the only one left to spill the details. And he would, because Jess' fury was far from being fully released. Too much had been done to him, but even more than what had fallen on him, too much had been done to Slim, Andy and Jonesy. Jess had always placed his family above himself, and now would be no different.

"Get up!" Jess barked, his voice surprisingly full of his normal grit since his ears couldn't help place the threatening tone. It was what pumped inside of Jess that put the correct tone there, his natural attitude on display even though a part of him was lacking.

"No."

Jess didn't need his ears or even his eyes to know Janz' reply, as his entire being picked up on the definite refusal. Glancing downward, he saw Mort starting to climb, and tucking the gun inside the belt at his waist, Jess decided to save Mort the trip. Janz didn't want to get up, so he would oblige him. Jess reached his hand down and gripped the fabric behind Janz' neck and with a swift jerk, started pulling the man through the snow.

"Is it over?" Andy peeked over the top of his rocky barrier, hugging his arms to his chest. His red nose turned even brighter when he sneezed, blowing repeatedly in the handkerchief that Jonesy had offered him.

"It looks to be safe enough, but until we know for sure, just stay right here," Jonesy said, patting the boy on the arm. He stepped out of the hiding place, setting his mouth into a smile as he approached the sheriff's unexpected sidekicks.

"Jonesy!" Mose thrust his hand into Jonesy's clasp. "You're still in one piece."

"Almost," Jonesy chuckled, the warmth of Mose's shake matching the secure feeling that finally filled his chest.

"We heard all that shootin' and thought for sure you were goners," Mose released his hand and placed it around Jonesy's shoulders.

"I think we would've been if you hadn't shown," Jonesy said, walking alongside of Mose, their feet picking up in pace to meet Jess as he drug Janz downhill, with Slim following closely behind them.

"Looks like Jess' got hisself a real catch," Mose said with a chuckle.

"If it were me, I'd toss him back," Jonesy gave a quick wink.

"If it were me, I'd see if he's got some whiskey on him someplace," Cade said, licking his lips, the taste of whiskey being absent long enough that his tongue started sizzling at the mere thought.

"What's this all about?" Mort asked when Jess deposited Janz near the lawman's feet.

"We haven't heard the full story yet," Slim said with a slight shake of his head, looking down at the scowling face of the outlaw.

"Talk Janz," Jess' voice still held onto its normal ferocity as the hand that clutched tightly to Janz' collar gave a firm shake. When his mouth refused to open beyond his teeth, Jess gave him a rough slap across his jaw, dropping him with force into the snow. "I said, talk!"

"All right," Janz wiped his sleeve over his bloody lip, giving one last jeering glance to Jess, but being stuck in his silence, Jess' steps started taking him farther away. The man that took Jess' position next to Janz wore a badge and the star being like its own form of a weapon, Janz knew there was no escaping now. And since Janz not only wore the stamp of an outlaw but also a first rate weasel, he wasn't going to take the full blame alone. "It was all C.C.'s idea."

"Who's that?" Mort asked, looking first to Janz and then to Slim.

"Carlyle Cross," Slim answered when Janz remained in silence for too long. "The boss of this entire nightmare."

"Are you going to go on," Mort nudged Janz' arm with his foot, but let his head gesture toward Jess, "or do you need more persuading?"

"Nah," Janz sniffed his nose, glaring at Jess' back. "I can manage without more from him. C.C. wanted Sherman's ranch, on account of his dumb, old uncle willing all of his money to him. But only if he owned a ranch. He was going to take the kid and try to use him to soften his uncle further. I only stuck around this long because I wanted to be cut in for more than what was first allotted to me." Janz paused, taking in a deep breath as he placed a finger back on his swollen lip, his eyes having never left Jess' heavily breathing frame. "That, and a chance to get my hands on him."

"You did," Slim said, wanting to smile, but left the sneering to the one that partially lay in the snow, "and look what it got you."

"A pair of cuffs," Mort removed the handcuffs from his coat pocket and slapped them on Janz' wrists, locking them tight as the prisoner let out a groan, "and a cell back in Laramie. Judge, put him over there by the half-breed."

"Will do," Cade pulled Janz up from the ground. "You know, you ain't very smart for an outlaw."

"And what does a posse man your age know about someone like me?" Janz said, his teeth back into his signature bite.

"Oh, Sonny," Cade laughed, his scruffy cheeks turning upward enough that his eyes glinted. "I can tell you a tale from now until they hang you about what I know about outlawin'. But it also turned me into a fairly fine lawman too, don't you think? Get movin' or I'll make you eat part of this shotgun for supper."

"Oh, Jess," Mort called, turning away from the Judge with a smile, but his mouth quickly developed a frown when Jess didn't respond. His feet took the short distance to where Jess stood, his hand reaching out to Jess' shoulder but froze in mid-air when Jess abruptly turned and faced him, his eyes sparkling like a lake reflecting the hottest sunrays, but not in a warming gesture, but just the opposite. "You all right?"

Jess stood still, not offering a word in response, his throat even holding his swallow still. Since the explosion had rocked his world, the fire in his soul had kept him going, the thoughts of his sudden loss able to be pushed aside. But now that all was left was the deep chill, its harsh reality chipped away at his insides like an ice pick. The horrible truth was even worse than the feeling deep inside of his gut. Jess could not hear, and now everyone else was about to learn of its absence. It was one thing to be stuck in his silence in front of Slim and the family, their compassion not given with pity, but backed with love. Now, he had to face the rest of the world, and whatever else would come with it.

"Uh," Mort hesitated, trying to keep the worry that started to mount on his inside hidden from his features on the outside. His eyes ran over the tattered shirt on Jess' back, unable to be buttoned across its front, noticing the reddened marks over his stomach, but also the pronounced bumps of being too chilled every place else and Mort started to remove his coat. His arm still throbbed, but he'd been bundled up since leaving the ranch earlier that morning, Jess appeared that he had not had anything decent on for much longer than that. "You must be cold."

"Thanks," it was barely muttered, Jess' nod seemingly louder as he took the coat from Mort's outstretched hand.

"What's wrong with Jess?" Mort whispered, stepping backward toward Slim, but watching as Jess gingerly shrugged into the jacket. It was apparent that there was more wrong than just a few surface wounds, but something that penetrated much deeper. But how deep, and for how long?

"Jess can't hear, Mort. He was practically right on top of a stick of dynamite when it exploded," Slim explained, turning slightly away from where Jess stood. Talking about him in his presence, yet also in his silence, made a strange feeling of guilt waver around in his middle because this was his best friend, his partner that was being discussed, not just some drifter that had no meaning. "The blast must have damaged his ears. It was deafening enough where we were tied up in the cave, but it hurt Jess the most. I don't know what to think. I can't imagine what he's got to face if this is going to be permanent."

"Doc Hanson will have an idea," Mort said, his eyes softening at Jess' mixed expression of stubbornness and fear, but then as he turned back to Slim, the stains on his shirt brought another round of worry to pound in his temples. "Looks like you'll need to see him too. What happened to your shoulder?"

"Gunshot wound," Slim answered with a slight shake of his head, "but don't ask me how I got it. Looks like you must've taken one yourself."

"Yeah, but that came in the line of duty," Mort answered with his eyebrows slightly lifted. "And since it hasn't made me ready to retire, don't expect me to not ask about your bullet hole when we get home, and that's exactly where you all are headed. The only thing is, we don't have enough horses along to get us all there."

"There's a team and wagon around somewhere," Slim said, his eyes wandering toward the lower elevation. "Maybe at Janz' cabin. There should be a trail somewhere below the front side of the cave that we can easily follow to get there."

"Good," Mort said with a nod and then turned to his deputies. "Got them all rounded up?"

"You betcha," Mose nodded, using his gun to prompt Janz to stand as Cade did the same to Snake.

"Wait. Where's Cross?" Slim turned, his eyes rapidly searching the snowy scene around them. He'd last seen the suited man flat in the snow where his final punch had sent him, but Slim thought that Mose had brought him down to join his other two cohorts behind Cade's shotgun. Slim's eyes swept over the area looking for a piece of the suit, but another sickening reality was about to hit him across his face when Slim discovered that another one was absent too. Jonesy stood alone, and the rocks where they had hidden were empty. "Where's Andy?"

"What's wrong?" Jess asked, fastening his eyes to Slim's mouth to read the dreaded reply, as the feeling in his stomach seemed to already know.

"Cross has Andy."

:.:.:

_Nakoosay has been an instrumental part of this story from its beginning, as she's offered her insight from chapter to chapter, and I couldn't pass up her latest request. The melted snow, dripping down Jess' face and onto his chest was completely visualized by Nakoosay first, (although her version was sweat, but hey, snow would melt against a hothead like Jess, right?) and it was a pleasure to make it happen for her in written form. Thank you._

_The fight was fulfilling several requests, of Janz getting the smirk smacked off of his face; both Jess and Slim getting a piece of Cross; and a special request coming from CoryLynne, wishing for Mort to have a hand in the rescue. It was only fitting that Snake belonged to Mort, since it was this man that shot Mort and took down the original posse. I had envisioned the big battle as the chapters progressed, but it was fun to put it all together with so many other thoughts being put into it. So thank you to everyone who played a role! We all know that Jess and Slim can hold their own, but it's great that we can give them a hand._

_And, I'm sensing the end is right around the corner._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Slim ran the distance to where Andy had been hidden, the marks in the snow all the horrible proof that he needed to know that his words to Jess had been true. Cross had Andy. The tracks were clear to see, the size of a man's and Andy's smaller boot prints, with one directly in front of the other. Slim hurried over the trodden path, his pulse pounding hard in his chest, holding out to a small shred of hope that the footprints would lead to the man and boy, with a plea, bargain or offer ready to be given for his release. But there would be none. The tracks abruptly stopped on the other side of the ridge, with a single horse's prints taking their place.

"Cross!" Slim's shout reverberated off of the rocks, the sharp return smacking him harder in the face than the sound had entered his ears. There would be no reply. Not because Cross would have never offered one, but because they were too far gone. Andy was gone.

Jess stood by Slim's side, his own trek through the snow taken in equaled pace with his partner, including the heightened rage. He should have known. When he last looked at Cross, his supposedly unconscious face still looked too smug to trust to be down deep in darkness. He felt the searing pain flare as his fists balled together at his sides, the broken skin of his knuckles the stark reminder of his fight with Janz, but also in the single punch that Jess had pounded into Cross. If only the opportunity could arise once more, Jess would do more to the man than just use his fists on him, and it could, but not while he was standing there doing nothing. The only thing that stopped Jess from plunging ahead on the downward trail was that Jonesy and Mort had caught up with them, Jonesy's mouth at work showing that a conversation had begun. Jess remained at Slim's side, even though he couldn't hear it.

"He needs Andy alive, Slim," Jonesy said, following with his eyes the tracks that Cross' horse made in his hasty escape with Andy. He tried to offer a note of encouragement in his voice, but it only came out in a shivering mass of fear.

"Alive doesn't mean not hurting," Slim thrust his left thumb at his shoulder. "I've got this and I'm still alive. Look at Jess, he can't hear anything, not to mention his broken ribs and his skin nearly being burned all the way through and he's still alive. I don't want to think what he'll do to that boy to get him to sign the title of the ranch over to Cross' name. He's running out of options, and I don't have to remind you how ruthless that man is."

"We'll get to him," Mort said, his eyes coming away from the tracks to rest on the hardened lines on Slim's face, "but we can't do it on foot."

"I'll run, walk, crawl, or anything else if I have to," Slim spoke with a rare vengeance firing in his throat, "but I'm going after Cross. Right now."

"We all will," Mort said, placing a grip on Slim's arm, knowing that if he released it, Slim's speech would turn into reality. But a downhill march wouldn't get the worried brother very far, even if he was treading on his own personal storm cloud. "But we've got to use our heads first."

"What use is my head when it's what's in my heart that matters? That's my little brother, Mort," Slim said, pulling his arm out of Mort's grasp, and as he did so, his hand brushed his shirt to hover near his chest, the frantic beating felt under his palm. "I'm going."

"There are eight of us here and only five horses," Mort said, knowing the importance of catching up to Cross, but also knowing the practicality of what was in front of them. He didn't always like to have to think like a lawman, especially in something as important as Andy's capture, but because of the high level of importance, it was all the more necessary to not go forward in a vengeful haste. "I know a few of us could double up, but it's already slow going in the snow."

"I don't care, Mort," Slim turned his head sharply to glare at the lawman. "And you better not try to stop me, or I just might forget you're wearing a badge."

Jess watched the silent exchange between Slim and Mort, catching a few words formed on Slim's mouth, but he wouldn't have needed a single one to understand its meaning. He felt the same rush of fury, the emotions inside of his chest battling between heated revenge and unbearable fear. There could be no delay in getting on Cross' trail. Too much time had already passed. He could see that Slim was ready to go, on foot if necessary, and Jess wasn't going to let him take one step without him. This was about Andy. That was enough to go on.

"You ain't leaving me out," Jess said, reaching out to grab Slim's arm, turning him around so that both partner's faced each other, their eyes instantly locking together. "Wherever you go, I'm going too. And I ain't gonna wait."

"All right," Mort conceded with a sigh. "We'll split. You and Jess take the two outlaw's horses, I'll take Jonesy with me and we'll find Janz' cabin. If the wagon isn't there, I'll leave the Judge and Mose to guard the prisoners while Jonesy and I continue."

"Let's go, Jess," Slim said, motioning with his hand for Jess to go with him and as they began, Jess touched the gun at his belt line. Up until now, they could only face Cross with their hands, limited to what they could use as fists, but that was no longer. Slim and Jess were armed. And one could say that the two men were quite dangerous.

"And boys," Mort said, his voice holding onto every note of a dutiful lawman, "don't get so far ahead that I have more than one man to arrest down there."

There was no response. Jess could offer none because he hadn't known what was spoken, but Slim knew, and together, they would make no promises.

…

Andy sat in front of Cross, the suited arm clasped securely around his middle to keep him from falling from the horse that had been steadily plodding downhill in the snow. The direction in which they rode was a mystery, Andy's only awareness was that he was being taken farther away from Slim, Jess and Jonesy. He hadn't been expecting anyone to sneak up behind him where he had remained hidden alone in the rocks. Andy had been so absorbed in watching the scene take place between Jess and Janz that he didn't hear the footsteps approach, and when he did, it was too late. The end of Cross' gun pointed in Andy's back, and then a hand with blood streaked across its knuckles covered his mouth. He could do nothing but obey, as the fear and shock silenced his cough so that no one was alerted to his removal.

Andy felt terrible, the sickness that invaded his body resided mostly in his nose and throat, creating uncontrollable urges to cough, sneeze and shiver. He was afraid, but he was also fevered. There wasn't so much heat from his forehead that his mind wasn't in full control, but enough to prompt quivering chills to pulse throughout his body. Andy wished that he could turn off his shuddering frame, even if it was caused by two different sources, but because one of them was fear, Andy didn't want Cross to know that it was there. He hadn't forgotten Jess' words, how a man could have fear without showing it, and he knew now that he was separated from his family, it was more important to have his inner strength be on display instead of the fright.

A slight gasp sounded near Andy's ear as Cross shifted in the saddle, and Andy turned his head to try to catch a glimpse of him. Andy might have been stuck in an illness, but if it was any consolation, Cross wasn't in the best shape either. Slim had given Cross a decent beating, and knowing the power that was in Jess' fist, the single blow that had come from his hand had its own scathing mark. The blood hadn't crusted over yet near his nose, as a steady drip still trickled down near his chin. His breaths came short and sharp, an indicator of pain, maybe from something being banged up on his inside. If Andy had been stronger, a plan of escape might have developed into action, but for now, all he could do was wait for Slim and Jess. He knew they would be coming. They wouldn't leave him to suffer in Cross' clutch. Not ever.

"Stop sniveling, kid," Cross said, squeezing Andy's middle tighter as if the jolt of pain would make his nose stop running.

"I ain't crying," Andy said, his voice holding onto a hint of quivering, but too full of sickness in his throat to not take on some Jess Harper grit. Andy might not have spoken aloud his desires to be like Jess as often as it had come from his lips when Jess had first drifted into their lives, but the wish was still there. During times of solitude, Andy had often pretended that he was the gunslinger turned cowboy, complete with the gravel filled voice to go with it. He'd practiced, challenging his youthful voice to grow deeper, but never having an opportunity to use it in front of another person until now. Andy wasn't certain that he was close to perfecting it, but the thickness in his throat added the necessary flair, and since it was there, Andy planned on using it in full force. "I'm sick."

"So it seems," Cross wrinkled his nose with repugnance at Andy's continued sniffling. "At least use a handkerchief, not my arm."

"Then get your arm away from me," Andy replied, trying to push against the tight hold.

"I can't do that," Cross said, trying to not grimace when Andy's cough ended in a gag. "Sick or not, you might have other ideas. And I can't let you get away, not now. Not when I'm this close to having it all."

"What do you want me for, anyway?" Andy couldn't help but squirm, even though he knew getting loose was impossible. "You're not going to get the ranch from me."

"I don't have to," Cross said, the smug smile returning to his bruised cheeks. "Now that I have you, big brother's going to give it to me. I know just as well as you that he's following us."

"Why?" Andy shook his head. "We don't have anything. Slim barely makes ends meet each month. We all work our tails off just to get to the end of one day, only to start it all over again the next. What makes you think you'll do any better?"

"I don't have to work the ranch to rake in the dough," Cross answered, his eyes taking on a faraway expression, as if he could already see the money being placed in his hands. "It's going to be given to me, in full."

"I don't get it."

"You don't have to get it," Cross said, the irritation in his voice bursting his dream-like bubble, "but just so you'll stop nagging me, I'll fill you in on it. After all, you might as well know, since you're going to be a part of it. Remember, I already asked if you thought I'd make a good big brother."

"If you really want to know the answer to that," Andy dug deep for Jess' tones, the snap being produced by fire. "Never."

"Quit trying to be like Harper, kid," Cross said, and Andy couldn't help but flinch, the jumping of his muscles both in anger and pleasure. At least he knew he had been successful in his imitation of Jess. "Just shut up and listen. My uncle is planning on giving me a wealthy inheritance, as long as I'm a ranch owner. I picked yours because it doesn't have any frills and lace. And you, my dear boy, will be the icing on that plain cake. My uncle will melt when he sees how I've taken in an orphan. The money will be in my hands before he dies. But make no mistake, my uncle is going to die, along with anyone else who gets in my way."

"You'll never get away with it," Andy said, pausing as his body was wracked with coughs, the sharp intakes of cold air making the irritation in his throat even worse. He was going to keep up the Jess-like gravel no matter what Cross had told him, but his voice just might completely give out on him first. "The stage driver's coming in every day will know something's not right. They'll tell the sheriff. And so will I."

"You honestly think I'll keep the contract with the stage line?" Cross gave a short chuckle before he continued. "That's one of the first things I plan on getting rid of when the ranch is mine. I won't need the money. I'm going to be rich. And in case you still have any hope in the lawman in Laramie, you should know that he was the first to fall from his horse the other day when Snake took on the posse. I'm sure you remember all that gunfire."

He did. And if Andy would have known that one of those shots had targeted Mort Cory, he would have mourned for him as the shots were blasting. But now, there was such an intense grief filling Andy's soul, from multiple lives lost or harmed, from being in Cross' clutch, and from the deep dread that was his future, he couldn't even shed a tear.

"Oh and your threat?" Cross gave Andy's middle an extra squeeze as he lowered his mouth to Andy's ear. "Don't bother. Unless you're interested in burying everyone you care for, you'll behave."

Andy shut his eyes and dropped his head against his chest, trying to pull away from Cross' harsh remarks. He meant them. There was no doubt in Andy's mind. He'd already seen what the wicked man was capable of, and Andy would keep his mouth shut if it meant that those around him wouldn't have to suffer under Cross' wrath. Andy sighed, keeping his eyes closed, and the longer his lashes were lowered, the rhythm of the horse and exhaustion started to take its toll as his body drifted into a restless sleep. He didn't know how long he stayed in slumber, but Andy was jerked awake when Cross reached for his gun, the hold around his waist starting to loosen as he checked to make sure it was fully loaded.

"What're you doing?" Andy asked, staring at the gun in Cross' hand. He didn't think that Slim or Jess could have caught up with them by now, but Andy wasn't as trained in directions as they were, especially on a monotonous gray day. He listened intently, unsure if there was more than just the sound of the horse's hooves underneath him sinking into the snow, but one thing was certain, Cross wasn't preparing his gun to snag a rabbit for dinner.

"Someone's coming," Cross said, raising the gun to peer down its sights. "And just in case that someone's not on my side, I've got a bullet ready for him. And he's right… around… the corner…"

Andy held his breath, waiting for the rider to come into view, wanting to call out a warning to the unsuspecting person around the corner. Even if it wasn't Slim or Jess, if it was anyone that could potentially put a wrinkle in Cross' plans, Andy feared that he was about to witness a murder take place. Cross pulled the horse to a stop, the approaching rider so close that Andy could hear the breaths of the mount, and as Slim's name started forming on his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut, but it was another name that was spoken first.

"Rex."

Andy's eyelids flew wide open, staring at the one that Slim had called Cross' right hand man. His arm was in a sling, but it appeared by the gloating expression on his face that he was no longer out of commission. Coming down from the mountain, leaving Slim and Jess behind, Andy held onto the faith that once they caught up, all that they had to face was one, and one could easily be defeated by two. But now things had just changed all over again. The dread settled in his middle, making Andy feel sick in more than one way.

"The plan still on?" Rex asked, the crinkling around his eyes as he looked at Andy nothing friendly, but far too sinister.

"Yes," Cross nodded, sharing a similar expression as his partner, "and now that you're here, it can continue more smoothly than before."

"Where are we going?" Rex asked, turning his horse to be in step with Cross'.

"The Sherman ranch," Cross replied, urging his mount forward, "or should I say, the Cross ranch. It's as good as mine. All mine."

They continued onward, the elevation underneath them no longer high enough to support snow, but the mud was still present, as every flake falling above fell as rain below. They stayed this way for an hour, maybe time stretched out a little longer, but as the terrain became more familiar, Andy was more aware of their location. When Cross' hand pulled his mount to a stop, it was likely evident that he knew the same. They had just reached the northern edge of the Sherman ranch.

"We're almost there," Cross smiled, but quickly lost the expression as he turned around in the saddle. There was no one in sight, but if the hairs on the back of his neck could be trusted, Sherman and Harper were gaining ground. "Rex, let's divide and conquer. You take the left trail up into those rocks and wait, and when either Sherman or Harper starts to follow, keep them there, with a bullet if you have to, but just do it."

"I will, C.C.," Rex tapped the butt of his rifle and then brought his hand up to settle on his injured arm. "But I sure hope it's Harper that comes to me first."

…

"Hold up, Slim," Jess held up his hand as he pulled his mount to a halt.

"Another set of tracks?" Slim asked as Jess dropped out of the saddle to examine additional marks in the soft ground.

"Who do you reckon?" Jess asked, looking up at Slim, who could offer him nothing more than a shrug. "Another prisoner or another comrade?"

"He would've left anyone not on his side right here," Slim gestured his words with his hands, hoping that Jess could understand. "I hate to admit it, but it looks like Cross has another one of his friend's with him."

"Rex," Jess said the name with cold clarity. "Let's get back at it."

"You're probably right," Slim said, although Jess was back in the saddle, no longer looking his way, unable to discern the words coming from his mouth.

They continued forward side by side, their horse's prints nearly filling the ones in front of them step by step. The ground underneath them soon changed from a slushy white to a squishy brown, as the land drew them closer and closer to Sherman property and the outlaws they were seeking. But they wouldn't be going all the way there together. Slim and Jess came to a stop as suddenly there were two different directions in front of them to turn.

"We better split," Slim made a veering motion with his hands. "I'll take the main trail to the house, you go on to the left. If you run into Cross first, don't take him on yourself."

"Remember, Slim," Jess stared ahead to the pathway that now belonged to him. "I can't hear you."

Jess didn't need the spoken words to know what Slim had said. But even if he had, Jess' reply would have had the same meaning. They had been steadily catching up, as the trail that he was on now was barely even an hour old. If he found Cross at its end, there wouldn't be anything stopping him from taking him on. Alone.

Since losing his hearing, Jess had relied more on his eyes and natural instinct, and they were high at work as he kept his horse in a cautiously moving pace. At every turn he slowed, gun in hand, trying to gauge what was behind the bend before he reached it, but unless the internal warning started sounding, Jess wouldn't fully stop. He was on Sherman land, its familiarity as sharp as his accuracy with his gun, knowing that the rocks ahead were perfect for ambush. The next bend in sight, Jess' backbone began to tingle, the muscles in his middle tightened and his temple began to throb. His next step would be critical. Jess drew air into his lungs and held it, inching the horse slowly forward, for the path would soon open up, and now it was all up to his vision.

It would only take a moment before Jess saw him. Rex. He stood on a perch, leaning against a rock, a rifle held in his hands, waiting for Jess' unsuspecting approach, likely holding orders to kill him on sight. But Jess wasn't going to let him get that far. Jess could have dismounted, angling around the man's other side to catch him off guard, but Rex didn't have Andy. Jess turned the horse, leading the animal to the shortest route to the ranch house, because he wanted the man that did.

But before Jess disappeared out of the waiting man's view, Rex spotted Jess' retreating frame. He would need to be repositioned to get an accurate shot, but with Cross' orders resounding in his head and the pain in his arm reverberating that Harper was the reason he wore a sling, Rex was determined to find one. He mounted his horse, searching for the perfect place and when he knew Harper's path would intertwine with his, he took his stand. The last thing Rex needed to do was prepare the rifle for the perfect opportunity and the sharp sound disturbing the air indicated that he did.

…

Cross' arm no longer in a grip around his waist, Andy slid out of the saddle, his eyes going over every familiar piece of his home. The ranch didn't look any different than when he was forcibly taken from it, yet there was a strange atmosphere pouring from every inch of its space. Andy could have attributed the sudden change to the ongoing trauma, the absence of his family's comforting presences, and the vile outlaw next to him, but it was something digging much deeper. The ranch was his home, bearing the Sherman name, built by his father and brother, but in one instant, because of a crazy man's lust for wealth, it could all be gone. But that wouldn't be where all this would end. The ranch was only a part of what Andy could lose. Slim, Jess, Jonesy. Andy didn't even want to think what else, but it would all be gone.

Following Cross' lead, Andy walked toward the barn, his steps feeling even heavier than the mud that attached to his boots with every footfall. He paused slightly in the doorway, but Cross pushed him farther inside, as the man led his horse to the nearest stall. It felt like an eternity since Andy had cleaned it out, right before a half-breed had grabbed him, and everything that happened between then and now was because Cross wanted their ranch, to lie to an uncle for money. A filthy lie from a filthy life.

Andy stepped aside, keeping his eye on Cross, who for the first time since Andy had been taken, wasn't watching him as the man went through the motions to care for his exhausted horse. Andy wasn't going to ask him any questions, but he did wonder where Cross had originally come from. He didn't dress like a man of the west, but considering his malicious mind, he could have easily been schooled with some of the worst outlaws that ever called this part of the country home. And now he literally wanted to make it home. Cross must have studied other local ranches, picking out the Sherman one specifically, by his own admission, because it had no frills and lace, but did he know every detail? Inside as well as out? Andy shifted his eyes away from Cross, his vision beginning to wander around the barn, pausing at the cabinet on the far wall, its contents hidden, but inside of his mind, Andy could see every one of them. A handgun, a rifle, and a derringer. All of them loaded.

Andy took a deep breath at the same moment that he took a step, and as a voice from behind didn't stop him, Andy took another, and another, until his hand was within reaching distance. He gave Cross only an angled glance, satisfied that the man's eyes weren't upon him, and Andy silently opened the cabinet, the choice needing to be quickly made, and he could hide only one of them. Andy gripped the derringer in his hand, the shape of the weapon searing into his palm like it had been warmed by fire. He could use it, if the situation merited it, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was hold it.

Closing the cabinet, Andy took a backward step, his toe rustling a loose clump of hay and just as Cross turned sharply in his direction, Andy slid the gun into his coat pocket, grateful that one of the handkerchiefs for his nose was wadded in the bottom. Completing his ruse, Andy pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and stuck his nose in its center, the exaggerated blow unnecessary as there was plenty inside to be removed, but the added emphasis was enough to make Cross repulsed. It made any question marks that had settled over his head at what Andy was doing in the corner become quickly forgotten.

"Come on, kid," Cross motioned with his hand, "let's go to the house."

He had rubbed a wound open on his cheek, the fresh blood along with the rest of his cuts and bruises in need of washing, but that wasn't the only reason backing Cross' decision to leave the barn. He was getting anxious. Too much time had ticked by. They couldn't have been too far behind him on the trail, and if Harper and Sherman had split up like he had figured they would have done where Cross and Rex had separated, then there should have been contact made by now. And there hadn't been a single gunshot. If Cross had a made a mistake in his assumptions, then he was about to have two angry, yet overly willing men to face. But as it would turn out, there would be only one. Exiting the barn, the walk to the house was only halfway completed when a rider raced toward them. Sherman. And he was armed. The handgun was clearly visible as Slim dismounted, his boots stilling in the mud as Cross pulled Andy against his chest.

"Slim!" Andy cried, trying to rush forward, but Cross' tight grip held him in place. He gasped when the iron was whipped out of Cross' jacket and pressed into his temple, cocked and readied to be fired in a single second.

"Drop it, Sherman," Cross shouted, somehow the earth seeming to tremble in reaction to the menacing tone of his voice, but perhaps it was just that Slim's legs had started to shake. "Now!"

He had no other choice. Slim's breath was held in his lungs as he released his weapon, and the same moment that it hit the ground, Andy's eyes closed with a touch of relief. Yet the gun in Cross' hand didn't change positions, because he wasn't done making his threats. Slim knew what would come next, and with a gun pressing into his brother's head, it would be nearly impossible to not scribble his name on a piece of paper, signing the ranch over to Cross right then and there. If only he and Jess had never parted. Slim gave one look away from Cross' wild eyes, searching the perceptible distance for Jess, but he was nowhere in sight. And yet, if Slim had anything on his side, it was time, even if only a sliver of it, because Jess was out there, only Slim didn't know how near or far away.

If Slim could just keep him talking there was a chance. Jess had to be coming. He would have known by now that his trail hadn't belonged to Cross, and Jess would never follow another man's, because like Slim, Jess only wanted the man who threatened Andy. He had to give Jess the time. He had to keep Cross talking. Slim ran the thoughts over and over in his head, his stance held steadied by courage, but also held by faith in his partner.

"Can't we work this out some other way?" Slim asked, keeping his gaze locked with Cross. "You don't need to kill any of us to get the money from your uncle."

"I should've known not to trust Janz with the details," Cross scowled, and then his head took on a repeated shake, "but sure, like you'll go off on a holiday and let me play boss rancher for awhile, and then when my uncle hands me the money, we can all go on our way like nothing ever happened. Except you never could. You'd have the law on me faster than I can pull this trigger. Nothing doing, Sherman. Nothing doing."

"Cross," Slim began slowly, trying to keep his tone leveled, "he's just a boy. You don't want to hurt him. If you kill Andy, you can't use him anymore."

"I'm using him right now," Cross responded with a chuckle. "To twist your insides until you can't stand it anymore."

He was close to it now. Slim felt as if a knife had been inserted into his gut and turned, Cross' hand grinding it deeper with each of his threats. Cross said before he wouldn't kill something he could use, and Slim had just slid that card on the table, but this wasn't a game Cross was playing anymore. He was desperate and ruthless. And a man such as Cross would do anything, even kill a boy. Slim opened his mouth, another mode of delay on his lips, but anything further would be quickly silenced. The crack of a rifle suddenly split the air, and all three of them flinched.

"You hear that?" Cross' mouth split open with a wicked grin. "Only one. You know what that shot means? Harper was on the other end of it. Rex was waiting for him. It's over, Sherman. You're done. You have nothing else to fight for but this kid. Harper's gone. Gone! Now, do you have all the grief you can handle, or do I give you some more?"

"Stop Cross," Slim's voice approached the tone of begging, the defeat visibly weighing his shoulders down. He couldn't believe that the sound of a single gunshot meant Jess' demise, but it meant that his precious sliver of time was up. Cross was going to kill Andy. Maybe Slim would have been able to get to him before the next round would end up in Slim's flesh, but even if retaliation could kill Cross with his bare hands, it would already be too late. It was too late. It was over. He was done. Cross' words churned in a repeated motion through his head, until his own version came through his lips. "I give up. You win. The ranch is yours."

"You mean that?" Cross asked, his eyes glistening with glee.

"Every word," Slim said, the promise stinging throughout his entire flesh. "Whatever you want me to do, you'll have it. Just let Andy go."

"Slim, no," Andy said, feeling the pressure of Cross' gun slowly release from his head. It just couldn't be over. Not yet. "Please don't give up, Slim."

"Shut up, kid," Cross snapped, pulling his arm up in a strangling hold around Andy's neck. "It's done. You heard your brother. The ranch is mine."

"Let him go," Slim said, his voice quiet, yet not without solid honor. "You have my word."

"So I do," Cross smiled, and in one swift motion, Andy was shoved forward, his momentum reeling him directly into Slim's body, making them both drop to the ground. Slim put a comforting hold around Andy's waist, but suddenly tightened his grip as Cross' gun was now pointing directly at Slim. "Get out of the way, kid. It's your brother's turn."

"No!" Andy cried, but Slim began to move him aside.

"See," Cross raised an arm in the air, "even your brother wants you moved."

"But you said…" Andy started, but Cross quickly cut him off.

"Your brother made the promise, remember?" Cross tapped the end of his gun at Slim. "I made none. Now do as I say. Move! Thank you. Looks like I get to still use you after all, kid. And you, Sherman, stay where you lie. I think there can be a little fun amidst some dying, don't you think?"

A laughed rippled through Cross' throat as he lowered his aim, the trigger being pulled to place a bullet at Slim's foot, the second only missing Slim's skull by a few inches. It was all too familiar for Slim, except this time, the one behind the gun wasn't his little brother trying desperately to miss his flesh. Cross knew exactly where he was placing the bullets, and one, maybe the next, or the following, or all the way to the sixth would pierce him, in a place where no man could dig it out. Slim jerked his arm closer to his side when the skin near his elbow burned with contact, but the bullet itself slammed into the ground. He lifted his gaze to find Cross' aim, and the barrel was pointed directly between his eyes.

Andy watched the scene in horror, knowing that Cross' game would only have one winner, but there was a wildcard hidden that the villain knew nothing about. It was time to use it. Andy put his hand in his pocket and pulled the derringer out with a secure grip, his thumb reaching up for the hammer as the appropriate finger found the trigger. And then his eyes narrowed in on Cross, as Jess' directions were spoken like a gentle whisper in his ear.

Point. Don't aim. And fire.

:.:.:

_Farmer Gail echoed a thought from Nakoosay, which was addressed in this chapter about what Cross would do with the stagecoach line. Under Cross' plan, there would be no stagecoaches, therefore, less suspicion. But in reality, when a man is only in it for evil greed, he wouldn't make every detail perfection. Thank you to these readers who helped me tie that loose end together._

_Nakoosay also couldn't forget Rex, and although I doubt he ever really left our heroes minds, Rex hadn't forgotten them either. He's made a comeback, so thank you to Nakoosay for envisioning his return._

_Pakyann and Nakoosay also suggested Andy's hand to help aid with the rescue, but as I'm leaving that part at the cliffhanger, I guess we'll all have to wait and see how that plays out. Thank you for your input, it's greatly appreciated, as I honestly was at a loss as how to weave this ongoing saga together._

_Linda Myrland asked that I not rush the ending, which I try to never do, and although I did attempt to close the story with chapter nine, it wasn't meant to be. So now the ending is elongated and I wanted to give Linda a thank you for putting that request in my mind to keep me focused._

_But, as I can see a conclusion on the horizon, I will say that only one chapter remains. Thank you to everyone who has stayed with me this far!_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jess landed on the ground, rolling on impact, the flesh of his upper arm recoiling where the bullet had hit. He came to a stop, allowing the ground to be the pressure for his wound, and although blood's flow wouldn't be completely eradicated, his position would do well to hide the dark red that was soaking into his clothes. It was only a graze, but the man that had pulled the trigger didn't know that, and a second, more lethal bullet could be triggered if Jess was found alive. Sensing the approach, a necessary check by Rex of his accuracy, Jess drew completely still, not even allowing breaths to be drawn in and out of his lungs. A boot kicked into his broken ribs, the eruption of returned pain nearly undoing his pretense, but Jess remained the position of a dead man. As the steps turned back in the opposite direction, Jess began to breathe again.

When the presence was no longer felt, Jess raised his head from the ground and shook it back and forth, the ringing in his ears taking on a different tone, now coming more as a whirr, slowing and then intensifying, but seemingly still muting out all normal sounds. Sitting up, Jess trailed his eyes around the area, looking for the man that had put him on the ground, but there was nothing in sight, nothing even moving except what the wind touched. Jess pulled the collar of Mort's coat tighter around his neck as he stood, the wind picking up in velocity as it poured in from the north, making the limbs on the trees and the brush dance and sway. He pushed a lock of wayward hair away from his ear, the cacophony inside of his head matching the way the wind continuously curled his unkempt strands back and forth over his forehead and suddenly Jess' hand paused through his hair. The ringing was dissipating, as the whirr began to increase, just like the air that swirled all around him.

Jess stuck a finger in his ear, his brain recognizing more than just the touch, and something close to excitement started fluttering in his middle. Jess' eyes followed the movement of the wind, and every whoosh, whistle and rustling that it made coordinated with the pattern coming from his ears. The dawning realization started like the flicker of light on the horizon at sunrise, in seconds, growing to the pulsating orb of noon. The whirr was the wind, and Jess had heard every blessed note of it.

"I'll be dad-gummed," Jess said aloud, his lips spreading into a smile at the sound of his voice.

Jess took a step, searching for the specifics of nature's noises, but moving brought the returned sting of the splitting of his flesh, and as Jess tightened his hand around the wound, something else tightened around his memory. The wind wasn't all that he'd heard, but something else had preceded it. The bullet hadn't been the only thing that had knocked him out of the saddle, but Jess had heard the crack of the rifle that went with it. The explosion had been dull, an almost hollow bang, like it had come from a lengthier distance than where Rex had waited. But it was real. Sound had returned, perhaps only in a dimmer part, but it had come before Jess even noticed its welcoming embrace. He had reacted normally to the sound as much as the pain, the ongoing fight for survival putting him on the ground before Rex pulled the trigger again. After traveling through the ongoing turmoil of silence, Jess could hear again. Yet, there would be little time to revel in its glory. He still had loved ones to be fighting for, and that reality was about to become strikingly real.

Jess was only allowed to take one step before he whipped his head toward the southwest. Shots. They sounded like a dull drumbeat to his ears, but it was unmistakably gunfire. And it came from the ranch house. There was no way to know the imagery that went with the sound, whether it was Slim doing the firing or the receiving, but there could be no delay in finding out. Jess searched quickly for his horse, grateful that the unfamiliar mount hadn't fled as he'd dropped from the saddle, and hurrying to the horse's side he mounted in one easy motion, directing the animal to run as soon as his backside hit leather, the names of Slim and Andy hammering inside of his chest with each beat of his heart.

…

Nothing moved. The gun in Cross' hand was as stilled as the one in Andy's, their eyes boring into each other so fiercely it was as if they were looking into each other's souls. It had been Slim that saw the derringer's presence first, the changing expression on his face making Cross' gaze flick away from his target, to find Andy's young hand trained steadily upon him. There was no trembling of his limbs, no sweat pouring from his brow, no biting of a lip, nothing that existed when the same hand pointed a gun at his brother, as somewhere along the line, the boy had found his rock of strength. And it was all aimed at Cross.

Andy kept his stance steadied, his hand surprisingly unwavering. He had been ready to fire with Jess' guiding words leading him forward, but before Andy pulled the trigger, he had remembered one more, and his hesitance completely hinged on its memory. _If there's a live target on the other side of your gun, pause first, and think it through_. Andy knew Jess' advice depended on the type of live target, as hunting game and potentially killing a man were two entirely different scenarios, but he knew the reason for the warning. You don't fire on a living being unless you have to. This time, most assuredly, with Cross' gun at a deadly point in Slim's direction, it was necessary.

"What're you going to do, kid?" Cross asked, his voice taunting, as his cold eyes still held tightly to Andy's.

"Kill you if I have to," Andy responded, and instead of his backbone quivering under the intense pressure, he felt it solidify. "But we can end this before it goes that far. Just drop your gun and it'll be over."

"You think it'd be that simple?" Cross asked through his snake-like lips, barely allowing a shake to form on his head. "Me surrender? To a kid? Never."

So this was it. Andy's offer was thrown back in his face, and now the next phase was in his hand. But what was really in Andy's hand was a gun. It might have been small, both palm and weapon, but there was also a form of power that resided in each. Andy ran through Jess' steps again, the point made, the aim being led by his point, and the pause for thinking it through. The completion would come upon firing. Andy pulled the trigger, the bullet not making any contact with flesh as it found its mark in the ground, exactly where he'd pointed it, but came close enough to penetrating flesh to make Cross jump, the slight opening of the outlaw's mouth proving that he'd underestimated Andy's ability.

"The next one won't miss, Cross," Andy said, his voice only carrying a small mark of the fear that raced inside of his body, showing that Jess' presence was still active inside of him. "I mean it."

"Then do it," Cross challenged, his eyes in narrowed slits as he focused on Andy's grip on the derringer. "But remember, kid, you only have one bullet left. One. So you better make it count, and I know how you can shoot. You're not good. You'll never hit me. And I still have enough bullets in mine to make a pretty poignant comeback."

"I only need one," Andy said, his finger starting to pull on the trigger. Andy knew both gun and hand had never wavered, and Cross knew the same, the sinister man was only trying to get inside of his head. But there was no room for the negativity to fit, when he was already filled with Jess. A worried brother, however, couldn't see everything that resided inside.

"Andy, no!" Slim shouted, knowing that another miss would bring Cross' trigger to be pulled on Andy instead. Slim's own life being on the line was forgotten, but everything about Andy's life, from the moment his mother laid the wailing infant in his arms, to the eventual day where he would watch his little brother walk the woman of his dreams down an aisle, and everything in between was emphasized in his shout, because it could all be over in mere seconds if Andy didn't put a bullet in Cross. But then there was the opposite side of the coin. If Andy did hone his accuracy and shoot Cross, the action would be justified, but could Slim allow the guilt of death that he knew would suddenly be on Andy's shoulders to live with the rest of his life? "Andy, please…"

"Shut up, Sherman!" Cross changed the position of his gun, hitting Slim with its butt, the crack across his jaw creating an instant lump to form, but also a break in his skin to bring a steady flow of blood down his jaw line, but Slim would never feel it. His head dropped to the ground the same moment his eyes closed, the world around him shut out as his only awareness was his own darkness. "It's just you and me, kid."

There it was again. Jess' wisdom. Or perhaps it was better described as a warning. He had to think before he completed the required action. Everything spilled quickly over Andy's mind, his thoughts expressing the evidence from the moment their horror had begun. And it could be ended with one bullet, as long as that bullet came from his gun. Every time Andy had been by Jess' side, the pupil listening intently to the teacher, only inanimate objects had seen the wrath of their bullets. This time it was a man. Decidedly different than when Andy held a shaking gun on Slim, and this was the very man that forced him to shoot his brother. Even though Slim's words in the cave eased some of the guilt, it hadn't been fully erased, but putting an end to Cross would help soothe the remainder.

It wasn't only Slim and Andy that had suffered Cross' harm. This was the man that had been responsible for all of their suffering, posse men dying, his own cohort's death, and it had come close to having Jess be counted among the dead more than once. As it was, this was the man responsible for Jess' hearing loss. He would never forget any of that. But there was something else that Andy couldn't forget. There was a man's life on the other side of his gun. Pulling the trigger could end that life. There was no doubt in Andy's mind that Cross deserved to die. But could Andy be the one to do it?

"What do you say, kid?" Cross leered at Andy's hesitance. "You man enough?"

There was no one else to guide him. Slim was unconscious and Jess was nowhere in sight. Although Jess' directions still rotated through his mind, they couldn't exactly tell him what to do. Jess' knowledge Andy could obtain, but this wasn't a game of pretense where he could envision himself as the mighty Jess Harper anymore. He was Andy Sherman. The gun was in his hand. It was his finger on the trigger. It would be his decision to pull it. And as Cross began to raise his gun in his direction, Andy let it fire.

The bullet slammed into Cross, hitting him in the side, the force knocking the outlaw onto his back with a guttural cry. Andy felt stunned, seeing the result of his actions there on the ground, but there wasn't anything applauding in his insides. He'd shot a man. But he hadn't killed a man. Death wasn't Andy's intent, only to strike the man before he could do so himself. The point of the gun and the point of entry hadn't been too far off, but was enough of a difference that Cross wouldn't remain where he'd dropped. And the derringer was empty.

"You shouldn't have done that," Cross raised himself from the ground, the pitch of his voice suddenly turning deadly as the gun in his hand found an even point to Andy's chest. "I don't care anymore that I could've used you. Kid or no kid, you made your choice to fight like a man, and now you're going to die like one."

Cross meant every word. Andy could see by the sudden switch from an icy stare to a fiery one that he would follow through with his threat. The derringer slowly released from Andy's hand and dropped to the ground. Even though its bullets had already been released, rendering it useless, it was only when it hit the muddy ground that the impact of its loss hit Andy. Maybe he should have pointed differently, but there was no sense going back over any could have's or would have's now. He was living in this moment, and now, that moment was about to end with his life. Andy took a gentle breath, his eyes drifting closed and waited, his thoughts settling on the love of his family in Slim, Jonesy and Jess. After all, love was supposed to last forever and ever.

And there was a man intending on keeping it held in a heart for a much lengthier amount of time.

Jess.

In one glance, a multiple of horrors slammed into Jess, the horse underneath him obeying his swifter command at what was on display below him. Slim lying motionless on the ground would have been enough to build an intense fury inside of his veins, but there was something worse. Cross had Andy in his sights. An explosion like the one that had stolen his hearing erupted in Jess' chest, the thunder reverberating until it found its escape through his mouth.

"Cross!"

Jess' shout drained every speck of color on the outlaw's face as if he had seen a ghost, but there was no deathly pallor on Jess' cheeks. It was something closer to fire, the burning sensation going all the way down Jess' arm and into the gun that now filled his hand. Jess was real. Living, breathing, and every inch of him spitting mad. Jess dismounted, his gun solid, but the opposing one starting to shake as it turned in his direction. There would be no ducking for cover, no hitting dirt, no rolling along the ground to dodge Cross' incoming bullets, but Jess would take him head on, no matter how many times Cross pulled the trigger. He was there to save Andy, not himself, and Jess was willing to die to complete that saving, but if that fate would find him, he wouldn't be dying alone. Cross would be going with him.

Cross pulled the trigger first, his haste making a mistake, the bullet only running through air, not coming in contact with anything until it met the brushy hillside. Jess returned the fire, but there wouldn't be a mistake coming from his hand. The moment Cross was struck, he made another attempt, lining Jess' chest up with his eye, and as he let the bullet fly, Cross smiled, expecting Jess to be the one that fell first, but the lead never touched him, the miss narrow, but coming close would never count. Jess tossed one more bullet and Cross received it with a sputtered moan. All he needed was to take one more step, and then Jess stood nearly on top of the man, the gun rising in one last desperate attempt to kill, and then Cross pulled the trigger. But there was nothing left in Cross' gun. And there was little left in Cross' life. He dropped his head against his chest, his eyes closing, his heart failing, dropping onto the ground until there was nothing left.

"He's dead," Jess said, his eyes staying upon Cross' body for several seconds before turning to look at Andy. He expected Andy to be white with shock, trembling in fear, but what he saw was the vision of his own youth, a young man standing strong. Andy's countenance only changed when a groan came from Slim's chest, his feet running quickly to his brother's side.

"Slim," Andy touched Slim's cheek, smiling when he saw the fluttering of lashes and the soft blue that was underneath them. "Are you all right, Slim?"

"Andy," relief flooded Slim's face as Andy helped him into a seated position, his eyes full of his brother and the life that continued to radiate from his being. He shifted his gaze to see Jess, the relief ready to spring anew at the sight of his partner, but then a shadow darkened Slim's face as he saw the dead man on the ground. "Cross?"

"Jess killed him," Andy explained, giving Slim his hand as he made the attempt to rise up to his feet. "I shot him, trying to save you, but mine wouldn't have been permanent. Jess killed him to save me."

"I see," Slim settled his eyes upon Jess, standing still next to the dead man, his expression, like with all of the men that Jess had been forced to kill, was solemn.

Jess turned his head, his eyes colliding with Slim's, their message of gratitude, both given and received, passed between them in a single nod. The gesture was short, but it carried an insurmountable weight of their caring friendship. The slight curving of Jess' lip in an upward motion began to fade, his feet starting for the house with the need to refill his weapon. When a gun belt was buckled around his hips, Jess returned outdoors, bringing a box of shells with him to place in Slim's hand. It still wasn't over. There was still one more. Rex. Had he fled, or was he lying somewhere in waiting, like he had been for Jess with rifle poised? Jess scanned the hillside with his eyes, but it wouldn't be his eyes that found his answer, but his ears.

"Shots," Jess turned his head toward the easterly road, the gun in his hand quickly following in the same direction. There were too many to be one man. Mort and his ragtag posse must have caught up. "Sounds like a back and forth battle."

"Slim," Andy put his hand on his brother's arm as Jess hopped back into the saddle. "Did Jess just say, 'sounds like'?"

"I'm pretty sure he did," Slim ushered his brother toward the house. "Better get inside, Andy, and don't come out until Jess or I get back."

As soon as a gun was loaded and tucked into his belt line, Slim hurried for the horse that had brought him to the ranch house, following the imprints in the mud of Jess' leading mount. The firing continued, a singular rifle, handguns and the distinct blast of a shotgun, and although the steady stream of gunplay didn't cease, the posse wasn't gaining ground. Slim spotted Jess as his partner's feet hit the dirt, his own position too far behind to give Jess any assistance and since Slim wasn't going to pull up and wait to see what would happen next, he turned his horse to join the battling posse.

Jess silently crept closer to Rex, using a couple of well-placed rocks as his shield, climbing until he reached a vantage point where he could see the man bearing the rifle and the leader with the star on his chest. Rex might have only been one man, but he had Mort and his companions pinned down tight. He saw Mort trying to make a play, with Jonesy and Mose to back him up, but Rex was in too good of a position to not drop Mort as soon as Mort stepped free from his cover. And then Jess saw another man enter the fray. Slim. Jess hurried his steps, wishing that he could call out a warning, as Slim's position was now alongside the sheriff's, but the need to keep himself concealed kept his mouth shut. Until he was directly behind the man.

"Drop it!" Jess let the cocking of his gun produce another exclamation mark, the point narrowed in on Rex' back. "I ain't gonna say it twice."

Jess didn't need to repeat the command, but his gun was forced into action when Rex refused to comply. Mort and Slim, responding to Jess' shout, stepped into the open, their guns as readied to be fired as Jess' was, but it was evident in one glance that Rex wasn't about to surrender. Rex turned sharply, ready to unload his weapon into Jess, but Jess' gun delivered first. The rifle fell to the ground as two hands clutched the bloody wound, the gasp of air released from Rex' mouth being his last. Jess let a haggard sigh come through his lips when Rex hit the ground, lifting his eyes as Mort, Slim and the rest of the posse joined him.

"Thanks, Jess," Mort wiped a hand over his brow. "You, too, Slim. I wasn't sure how I was going to get out of that hole he had me in. What about Cross?"

"Down by the house," Jess answered, giving a slight nod with his head toward the ranch house. "Same as this one."

"Another one for the mud to swallow," Cade tapped the end of his shotgun in Rex' back and then turned to Jess with a lopsided grin. "You reckon you're gonna be gainin' a nice payoff for all them carcasses you've been pilin' up?"

"I ain't interested in no reward, Judge," Jess answered, dropping his gun into his holster.

"Only for justice to be served," Cade said with a slow shake of his head. "Honest fellers. Harrumph."

"Wait a minute," Mort put his hand on Jess' arm, "you heard every word that's been said."

"So I did," Jess smiled, the grin widening enough to show his teeth, but no one saw the light on his face for long, as Jess' feet were already taking him back to the ranch house. He knew Andy would be worrying and Slim fell in step beside him, the two men leading their temporary horses down the slope to the house, and at their arrival, the front door burst open with a boy racing to greet them.

"Jess!" Andy exclaimed, leaping into Jess' arms. "You can hear!"

"Pard," Slim slapped his hand on Jess' back, "why didn't you tell me your hearing came back?"

"I wasn't trying to keep it secret," Jess shrugged as Andy pulled away from his embrace, yet remained attached to Jess' side. "I just didn't know what was gonna happen after all the gunfire stopped. There was no point celebrating until I knew Andy, or I reckon all of us, was gonna be all right."

"That we are, Pard," Slim brought a finger up to the cut on his jaw. "A might banged up, but we're all right. Now all that's left is the burying and the jailing."

"And I'll take care of that," Mort said, hopping down from the wagon that Mose drove into the yard.

"I'll go see if I can rustle something up for supper," Jonesy climbed down out of the wagon seat, his feet leading him to the kitchen.

"I doubt it," Cade said, following Jonesy through the door, "all you've got is beans, biscuit fixin's, 'n' taters. None of the good stuff."

The sun had set and the beans, biscuits and taters were polished off. The fire was roaring, the aroma of coffee was lingering and the house could once again feel complete. It had extra inhabitants, at least for the time being, but that only made the feeling fuller, even with a former outlaw present and a young boy still sniffling into his handkerchief.

"Andy, you better get to bed," Slim said, rubbing his hand over Andy's forehead and down his cheek before coming to rest on his shoulder. "You don't feel fevered anymore, but that nose of yours needs rest. Get on in under the covers and we'll be in shortly to say goodnight."

"Take it easy, Partner," Jess said, the added encouragement finally getting Andy's feet to walk all the way inside the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

"All right, all you injured men, line up in a row," Jonesy instructed, watching as his command was obeyed, with the only man needing a persuasive push being Jess. He picked up the bottle of liniment from the dining table and then stood in front of Slim, Mort and Jess, the sound of the bottle opening making two of the three men wince. "Good. Now, off with your shirts. I brought out my specialty elixir this time, the one for open wounds."

"Oh, Jonesy," Jess groaned, outwardly shuddering at the thought of the repugnant liniment splashing against his bare skin and the sting and stench that went with it. "Do I gotta?"

"No back talk," Jonesy wagged his finger at Jess. "And yes, you gotta. See there at Slim and Mort? They know how to obey orders."

"Dad-gum," Jess scowled at the men beside him, his fingers beginning at his top button, slowly releasing each one until he reached the bottom. "I thought we were supposed to stick together."

"We're all here, aren't we?" Slim asked, waiting for Jess' shrugged response before looking down at his skin, marred with wounds, from the angriest gunshot wound at his shoulder, to the fist-shaped bruises on his abdomen, and the scratch of a bullet on his arm. "And we're not without the wounds."

"I ain't moaning over my aches and pains," Jess said, although he had to tighten his jaw at its tightest position to prevent a response to the pain that jolted through his upper half as he fully removed his shirt. "See, it ain't so bad."

"Uh-huh. That's why you just turned white as a sheet," Jonesy shook his head, unable to hide the smile at the corner of his mouth. "All right, Mort, since you're doing the least amount of complaining, I'll tend to you first."

"Thanks," Mort stood still, his shirt draped over his uninjured arm as Jonesy started to prod around the healing lines of his bullet hole. "I've never been opposed to grin and _bare_ it."

"That's just what we need," Jess rolled his eyes, "a lawman that pokes fun at a fellow and makes poor jokes while doing it."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Mort laughed, his torso shaking as he attempted to hold in the deeper chuckle that he held into his chest. "I just wish you could see yourself. A man with as much grit and tenacity as Jess Harper, reduced to the shivers by a homemade bottle of liniment."

"Wait 'til you get it on yourself," Jess muttered under his breath.

"Well," Jonesy dabbed Mort's wound with a liniment dampened cloth. "You don't look so bad. At least Doc Hanson had a hold of you first. You'll do, Mort. Put your shirt back on, you're free to go."

"Good to hear," Mort held in a rush of air, the heat on his arm matching the blistering redness of his cheeks from both the liquid's sizzle and stench. "Take it easy boys. I better get. Mose is waiting for me in the wagon with our load."

"You forget your joke or something, Mort?" Jess teased as Mort walked rapidly toward the door. "You ain't laughing no more."

"No," Mort shook his head, his fingers not even bothering to button his shirt beyond the half-way line in his hasty exit. "But I'll remember to watch my tongue next time. See you all later."

"Bye, Mort. You're next, Slim," Jonesy said, his feet pausing in front of the taller man. Slim kept his stance steadied as Jonesy administered his elixir, only needing to bite his lip once to prevent a pained retort from escaping. "Thank you, Slim. See, every man needs an exemplary patient."

"I ain't sure what that means," Jess said, shaking his head, "but I reckon I'm gonna be just the opposite."

"I don't doubt that," Jonesy looked Jess over from top to bottom, his eyes resting the longest amount of time on the freshest wound at the top of his arm. "Hmm, by the looks of you, I oughta make you take a bath in it, but since I know that'll only make you growl worse than a grizzly come suppertime, I'll just pour it on."

"Ain't that a purely refreshing thought?"

"Quiet now," Jonesy started to trickle the liquid over Jess' wounds. "It stings less if you don't squirm. There. You'll be right as rain in no time."

"Now he tells me," Jess groaned, stepping away from Jonesy and his intimidating bottle to face the Judge with a firm clutch of his even more intimidating shotgun.

"Hmm," Cade stepped forward, not stopping until he was nearly toe to toe with Jess. "You took somethin' of mine, Son."

"What do you think you're missing?" Jess asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from the Judge first.

"A bottle, that's what," Cade licked his lips and then touched the tip of his tongue with his finger. "Blamed dry as a desert. I had me an extra bottle when I done pulled you outta the river, but when I packed up to leave, it weren't there no more. Now see, it ain't too friendly not to share, so's I won't holler too much at you for taking a sip or two, 'cause I reckon by your raggedy condition you needed some, but, uh, I'll be taking it back now."

"Well, you see, Judge," Jess took a step backward, lifting both arms away from his sides, "I ain't exactly got it anymore."

"Whaddya mean, 'exactly'," Cade scrunched up his face, only one eye glaring into Jess' innocent expression. "You either got it or you ain't."

"All right," Jess shrugged slightly, "I ain't."

"Then how're you plannin' on payin' for that?" Cade lifted his shotgun, the barrel sticking into Jess' bare stomach. "A load of buckshot might do."

"Wait, wait, now, Judge," Jess pushed the end of Cade's shotgun away from his middle. "I can do you one better, but only if you put that thing down."

"You ain't funnin' with me, are you?" Cade asked, a smile creeping up into his left cheek. "'Cause if you are…"

"Not at all, Judge," Jess took a short step toward the bedroom, quickening his pace when the shotgun wasn't leveled again. Entering the bedroom, he put a finger up to his lips when Andy opened his mouth to question him, and then Jess removed a bottle of whiskey from its hiding place behind the dresser. Giving it a gentle shake, Jess returned to the living room, the amber liquid shining in the lamplight. "Here you are, Judge. Better than the original and it's almost full."

"Hey," Jonesy pointed at the bottle in Jess' hand. "That's not the one used for medical purposes. Jess Harper, you've been keeping your own stash!"

"A man's gotta have some secrets of his own," Jess shrugged, leaning his head toward Slim as he gave a wink. "Ain't that right, Slim?"

"Wait a minute," Jonesy put his hand on Slim's chest, pausing Slim's action of buttoning his shirt in place. "You mean you knew about that bottle of whiskey too?"

"Like Jess says," Slim smiled, his eyes twinkling at the astonished expression on Jonesy's face. "A man's got to have a few secrets."

"There you go, Judge," Jess said, setting the bottle in Cade's eager, outstretched hand, bringing it instantly up to his mouth. "And if I haven't said it proper before, thanks for saving my skin back there."

"Anytime, Son," Cade answered, smacking his lips after a long swallow. "As long as there's some of this waitin' at the end, you and I can team up anytime."

"Just as long as it's on the law abiding team," Jess said with a smile.

"I knew there'd be a catch someplace," Cade grumbled in his throat. "Well, boys, I've done more work the last few days than I've seen in some time. It's time to retire."

"You're welcome to one of our beds, Judge," Slim offered, his hand motioning toward the bedroom.

"Thank you," Cade shook his head, his feet aiming for the door, "but no. I'm gonna find me a quiet place where me and liquid fire can get reacquainted. So long, Son, I mean, boys, well, whatever."

"I doubt if he'll get farther than the barn," Jess chuckled as he parted the curtain, watching the Judge's uneven footsteps tottering across the yard.

"I'll go out in a bit and make sure he's landed softly in the hay," Slim leaned alongside of Jess, shaking his head as Cade nearly bumped into the barn door before making it inside. "Right now, though, I promised Andy we'd tell him goodnight."

"Sure," Jess looked down at his bare chest. "I'm already half undressed, so I might as well call it a night, too."

"You're looking better, Andy," Slim said when the three men entered the bedroom.

"The warm bed is what feels good," Andy answered, a rattled cough following his words.

"That'll do the trick," Jonesy sat down at the foot of Andy's bed, tapping the boy's leg with his hand. "That and some of that cough medicine I whipped up this winter."

"Oh, Jonesy, do I have to?"

"Now you're sounding like Jess," Jonesy chuckled, gaining a smile on both Andy and Jess' lips.

"That's not such a bad thing," Andy said, looking up into Jess' eyes that seemed to be surprisingly moist. "I especially needed that voice today. Thanks Jess. I didn't want to shoot Cross, but I could, because I had you in me."

"You'll find out you can do most anything, but not just because of me, but because of who you'll turn out to be," Jess said, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. He'd felt that sensation before, somewhere between openly crying and the swelling of genuine pride, but this might have been its most intense moment. "I'm mighty proud of you, Andy,"

"I'm proud of us all," Slim said, putting his arms in a brotherly embrace around both Andy and Jess' shoulders.

…

"Mmm," Jonesy breathed in a deep breath. "Just smell that spring air. Since it stopped raining last week, the sunshine's made it smell fresher than bread being dropped right from the pan."

"All I can smell is the horses that I had to change by myself a few minutes back," Jess jerked a thumb toward the corral.

"Sorry, Jess," Slim said as he came out of the house with Andy by his side. "The next coach will be all for Andy and me, all right?"

"Aw, it ain't so bad. My body's done nearly healed up anyhow. I can lift most anything without feeling a twinge in my side. Oh, I almost forgot," Jess said, pulling three envelopes out of his vest pocket and handing the small stack to Slim. "Stagecoach left us mail."

"Probably the feed bill, grocery bill, and…"

"What is it, Slim?" Jess asked, not liking the way his partner's eyes suddenly darkened.

"It's a letter addressed to Carlyle Cross."

"How'd it end up here?" Andy asked, standing on his tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of the writing on the envelope.

"I don't know," Slim shook his head, breaking the seal and pulling out the single page. "Must be from his uncle, written before Cross was killed. Maybe he knew to send it to Laramie and the man at the post office sent it on here."

"What's it say, Slim?" Jess asked, stepping close to Slim, starting to read over his shoulder as Slim read aloud.

"'Dear Carlyle, I'm sorry I won't be coming to your ranch like I expected, but something has suddenly changed in my life. Low and behold, at my ripe age of eighty-six, I met a woman who I couldn't say no to. And she's become my wife. Even though your ranch and the need to make it prosperous might appreciate my wealth, I have decided to bequeath everything to my wife's family, which includes eight children, thirty-five grandchildren, and seventeen great-grandchildren, with a great-great on the way. Life has a way of turning everything upside down, but sometimes in a good way. I hope someday your life will turn around too. Many blessings, Uncle Herb'."

"Dad-gum," Jess shook his head. "If I hadn't killed him, this woulda done him in for sure."

"You mean, he did all of that to us for nothing?" Andy asked, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue as he felt returned anger for Cross.

"We could look at it that way," Slim said, waiting until Andy's eyes rose to meet his, "but there's another way to see it. If Cross would have been successful in getting our ranch, he still wouldn't have got what he really wanted. Justice always has a way of disclosing evil, Andy, even in ways we don't always expect."

"Yeah," Andy slightly nodded. "I guess so. At least not everything can fall by Jess' gun hand."

"Hey," Jess frowned, but seeing the grins growing on both Andy and Slim's faces, his own started to flicker upward. "I didn't win that fight by myself. I think we all did pretty good together if you ask me."

"You're right, Pard," Slim said, the look of admiration shining in his eyes, "and together is where we belong. Let's get back to work."

:.:.:

_Wow. Where do I start? Thank you doesn't seem quite enough, but it's what I offer with my whole heart. Thank you, so much, to all of my readers that took this journey with me step by step all the way to the end. I could not have created this story in how it was written without you! Thank you for every suggestion, for every thought, for every word of input. I tried to utilize as much as I possibly could, but if I couldn't add a particular suggestion, it's not that it wasn't appreciated or thought about. I have no idea how this story would have ended up without everyone's ideas rolling through my head, but I know for a fact that you all made it better. Laramie fans are devoted to their heroes, and it is a great privilege to write for each and every one you featuring those amazingly handsome (and talented) characters._

_Chapter ten specifics. Thank you to WillowDryad, for her suggestion that Jess risk his life to save Andy. This also is a big thanks to MustangSallie for thinking that Slim and Jess wouldn't want Andy to actually kill Cross. He played a role in his rescue, which led to saving Slim, but MustangSallie was right, and it all coincided with WillowDryad's request for Jess' big moment to save Andy. Very well put together, ladies, thank you!_

_That last bit about Cross' uncle willing his fortune elsewhere was all Nakoosay's idea, although it was meant as a specific jab at Cross to bemoan about in prison. I wasn't going to let Cross live after all that he put our heroes through, but her idea still had a place in the story, so I thank Nakoosay for her suggestion._

_I threw an extra gift in for everyone. Another shirtless scene, this time combined, both Slim and Jess, and the addition of Mort, especially included for CoryLynne._

_To all of my readers who waited for completion before reading the story, I thank you also. When I started this journey, I knew that there would be a number of readers who would wait, and that is always fine, but I hope now that you've come this far, it was enjoyable for you as it was for me._

_Your support, encouragement and positive feedback means the world to me. Although I could probably write story after story without a word from anyone, because I love Laramie so much that I don't think I could ever quit, but hearing your feedback, reading your reviews, and sharing your Laramie heart with me is a reward like no other, whether it comes at the beginning, middle or end of the story._

_Thank you again and God bless, Calico West_


End file.
